Ashes Poetry

Another great day for the Engerland, The Sundays will be full of it, so I won’t bother with the cricket itself, except to say why today’s poem isn’t about Trott’s ton. It may be the TMS Champagne Moment (my pop still would be Katich run-out of said Trott) but the real innings which changed the character of the day and confirmed the course of the match was Strauss’s. From 63 for 3 and uncertainty he took his side and country almost  to the point of festivity, if not victory..

333-8 The Ashes Procession already begun, Swan welkins himself out, Australia in a treble Nelson; one eye, one arm and one submission. Wrestle with the deep.

The last phrase leads to the  poem, where it helps to know the medieval poem ‘The Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens’ (hyperlink to come)

The Ballad of Sir Andrew Strauss

ALBION sits in doleful frown,
Drine king most of the time:
‘O where will I get a steely skipper
To sail this ship of mine.’

Up and spoke a bearded miller
Sat at the ECB,
’Sir Andrew Strauss is the best skipper
To sail against history.

Albion penned broadest honour
To sign it for Engerland,
And sent message to Sir Andrew,
Doffed caps, caps in hand.

The first line that Sir Andrew said
A loud laugh of delight
The next line that Sir Andrew read
Ashened face bone white.

‘O what is this has done this deed,
This ill-deed done to me,
To send me out this time of year,
To skipper agin Eausea’

‘Make haste, make haste, merry men all,
Our good ship sails the morn;
O say not say, my  players dear,
I fear an Eausea storm.’

‘Late late yesterday I saw their new team
With their old one in their arms,
And I fear, I fear, my dear players,
That we will come to harm.’

O our hopes enobled were right loathed
To wet their heel-highed shoes,
But half o’er the play was played
Their hats they were drowned.

O long, long may Eausea ladies sit
With their tinnies in their hand
Before they see Sir Andrew Strauss
Come sailing to Engerland.

O long, long may these ladies stand
With their gold combs in their hair,
Waiting for their own dear lairds;
For they’ll not see them no more.

Half over, half over to Australia,
It’s fully five bells deep,
And there resides good Sir Andrew Strauss
With the Eausea at his feet.

An early unpublished draft
Based on The Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens (version Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 71: “given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.”  b. Herd’s Scots Songs, 1769, p. 243.

Tweet By Tweet Commentary

62-3 In late,Siddle wides with leg-cutter which doesn’t quite come out of back of hand, Alec Bedster would approve intent but not execution

68-3 Kay calls from home, return of squeaky steering column on jamjar, cure a squirt of furniture polish Wheels not fallen England’s inning

79-3 Why hasn’t Punter started with Johnson? Too defensive by half, without using all of four of a kind, he’s dealing himself a busted flush

92-3 North on, Trott takes five, lots of dust but nothing coming through surface, Put Dave Brubeck on, Punter, to bowl them a few pianos..

98-3 Clark>Strauss, Katich silly mid-off flinches at Strauss raising bat, then next ball dipped down third man, fifty worth century Albion’s

118-3 steely skipper is orchestrating the field, two fulminating cover-drives changes tempo, adante to allegro,pianissimo to forte Bang On!about 22 hours ago from web

139-3 a hundred partnership sea-change as steely skipper leads Albion afar to north Norway coast and to coast against North without compass.

to make merry. O to be in old England, in old England very fine time. A Flintoff c Siddle b North 22 with tears in his eye. O to be, O to be

157-3 the haven of lunch hoves to and Lord High Protector of Albion’s Commonweath edges North and iced out from the steely skipper’s tiller

157-4 Enter Prior smacks silly mid-off Ponting in face with literally full-blooded drive Harmison (Lord’s 05) looks on from distant pavilion

200-5 service delayed due to dodgy garages. Dogged England broadside Australian man of war. Prior lost overboard on the over-run Enter Fred!

200-6 in Old England – Shirley Collins and The Albion Country Band. I am, yet what I am, no man knows or cares John Clare ‘the peasant poet’

2004-6 Broad (The King is nearly dead, long live the King) Trott 67 without leaving his berth Dear Old England make hay while the sun shines

210-6 North drops Broad (who gives a XXXX) Australia sinking below waterline, (you can’t play from inside a submarine) Trott LXVII going 2 C

333-8 The Ashes Procession already begun,Swan welkins himself out, Australia in a treble Nelson 1 i 1 arm 1 submission Wrestle with the deep

354-8 Trott’s ton, who was last Blighty Bloke (South African) to century on debut? Agin Australia? Ask Kepler Wessels. Enough points scoring

379-9 Trott c Clarke b North. England declare “545 or 13 hrs before the mast” Can only rain save Australia now or is it a storming finish?

0-0 Neilometer off the scale

0-32 Aussie Team Talk: “We’re the best in the world, and we’ll get better by getting out of this alive” Swann comes on, it turns and spits.

0-67 Neilometer off the bottom. New King Broad bowls with roar from crowd like a Merlin engine of a Spitfire zoom Katich beaten all ends up.

0-71 Australian top order remain virgin intactica five overs to go Even if all young gun maidens the seated throng may feel squidgy bum time

0-78 Swann makes one turn and bite which almost edges Katich’s bat, but soft-handed angled blade keeps it down and safe. Well played both