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Time
after time,
He
took Australia to the sword,
Its
little wonder he won,
The
Compton-Miller award.
England
were on the ropes,
And
with the series still alive,
Geraint
batted bravely,
A
gutsy 85.
He
took the winning catch,
In
front of a vocal English crowd,
Leaping
to his left,
And
doing his country proud.
Giles
was the royal highness,
The
noble King of Spain
His
wickets at crucial intervals,
Kept
England in reign.
Though
he wasn’t a huge turner,
He
bent Australia’s batting,
His
classic ball to Martyn,
Was
reminiscent of Mike Gatting.
The
merry man from Wales
His
name was Simon Jones
His
riotous reverse swingers.
Had
them shaken to the bones.
Vaughan
gave him a mission
Simon
answered to the call
And
Australia had no reply,
To
his five wicket hauls.
Hoggard
was the mullet man,
And
swung the ball with flair,
His
consistency and class,
The
Aussies just could not bare.
In
the final Oval test match,
Australia
on the attack,
Hearty
Hoggard took a four fer,
A
British lion roaring back.
Grievous
bodily Harmison,
Was
a towering terror,
His
aggression and accuracy,
Meant
there was little margin for error.
He
showed his temperament and fury,
In
a wicket taking spree,
In
the opening Lord’s test,
He
took 5/43.
And
so England had toiled hard,
For
every wicket and every run,
David
had slayed Goliath,
And
the Ashes were finally won.
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