THE ASHES - THE PACT
Saint George said to Saint Donald, his Aussie counterpart
Let’s call a truce, lay ghoststo rest, let’s broker a fresh start
Let’s put aside our differences, but celebrate them still
From Melbourne to the Motherland, we’ll implement a bill
Oh come on Mate that’s bullshit, the Saint quickly replied
A Bill’s for Cops and Sheila’s Votes and Blokes who march for Pride
It’s not a fitting tribute to the dawn of a great day
Let’s burn some bleedin’ bails my friend and take the field of play
Knights will sit with dragons at the calling of the toss
The Swagman, once his Billy’s boiled, will toast each England loss
Whatever happens on the pitch, for what will be will be
Matilda and Ned Kelly will come waltzing in at tea
The challenge must be ruthless; in sport, no truer test
Five matches should be spic and span to settle who’s the best
But if the series closes out, with stale mate for its toils
The team that won it last time shall retain their winners’ spoils
Agreed upon the format, a conflict there was born,
Whose evolution gave us greats like Bradman, Botham, Warne
Household names from York to Yass, from Perth to Piccadilly
Larwood, Thompson, Grace, McGrath; Freddie, Gower, Lillie
There’ve been some tribulations, some trials, some damn fine Tests
And lesser times, quite frankly, when our manners have digressed
Sledging in Old Blighty, once a sport for gentle slopes
Became an Aussie tactic aimed at bashing Pommy hopes
That said, those English cricketers can’t claim a slate too clean
Recall the famous 30’s speech of one Captain Jardine
I haven’t come six thousand miles to make colonial friends
Bounce high into the Bodyline; we’ll see how they defend
Through Cricket we’ve a rivalry, whose equal isn’t known
Encoded in our very core and set in more than stone
The Ashes speaks of many tales; what’s here and now, what’s been
The Gatting Ball and Headingly; the Urn, the Baggy Green
The Long Walk through the Long Room, the hallowed Turf of Lords
Invincibles and Legends, not just names up on the Boards
The Wacca and the Oval, the Barmy Army’s Hill
The MCG and all the grounds, the History and Good Will
We’ll tell our mates old George my friend; both nations to a man
To speak unto their children of the day we hatched our plan
For all our Countries’ tests and trials and convicts bloody lashes,
We made a pact, they took their guard to fight for Flag and Ashes
©Henry Birtles