|
| |
Come forth our Angel of the North Stokesy
Come forth our Angel of the North
Working class…but VIP pass…standing sentry for cricketing gentry
Towering injury tarnished Talisman penury
Revarnished..primacy rebooted for his mooted destiny and legacy
Poetry in motion..the emotion
The devotion..our commotion potion
Rejuvenation
India rue what Stokes does imbue
Hadn’t got a clue what to do
Trepidation…procrastination..then damnation
Stewed…then skewed..eschewed..slewed and screwed by the
Hullabaloo dude..voodoo feud…hoodoo mood and rude juju of guess who
Not just effervescent…our ever present..iridescent..luminescent
incandescent…solar flared…flame haired crescent
The revival of a tribal primal Test Totem
Our frightening Nordic God..a lightning rod…gives a nod..says sod
The odds let's run roughshod…spiking…striking…Norse tour de force
Our white knight on a horse..our proper copper top Viking
Gill with the Shubman plan.. beseeching alright screeching…saw his rival
Preaching and teaching the Big Ben bible..dope tropes..where iron will and skill
Topped the bill..the blazing sun bleaching.. Indians hopes
On the ropes leaching …no reaching survival
But not even those in the hall of fame…are bigger than the game
Unless of course Ben Stokes is your name
One of Test cricket’s all time greatest leaders…sublime
Readers of the majesty of the Test tapestry
Many a scuffle…more needle than a pine cone…feathers did ruffle
Another row…kerfuffle ... .yet Ben wouldn’t bow…kowtow
His zen and his men then managed somehow.. to maintain his insane never ending mind bending high octane must entertain champagne campaign
They troll Crawley…digging a hole…will surely make them pay the toll
Heads will roll..gnarly..snarly won’t parley
Ben will take control…body and soul…bowl all day
The where.. there is a will there is a way style of play is here to stay
Ben’s fashion of beaming compassion for his boys
Scheming ploys, those pleas on his knees screaming…passion
Coursing through his brain and every single vein
Gongs for Big Ben’s bongs…the skipper’s duty…righting our wrongs…as we feast on a riot diet…the fruity booty of our beauty and the beast from the North East
Front or back page…his bold tale which broke the mold
Without fail told..always centre stage…they will never cage
The rage of this sage..for even old Nasser sold this folks ..Stokes’ golden age
Wry…wiry..sly…wily…fiery..heart on his sleeve
Ben’s pet peeve if you fret..don’t believe..which is why like Frank
Stokesy can say…come what may….I did it my way
Copyright ©
Toby Bennett
|
|