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14
TESTWARD
All hail the Sixteen Names! We clearly see
That each selected man is fit to be
Where what are known to us as Bumper Gates
Let vivid banter voice in broad-flung States
Colonial ringside Doric, barbed to show
That slang is quick when figuring is slow
Upon the Telegraph. What thousands roar
At Rip Van Winkle and his sleepy score!
That each selected man is fit to be
Where what are known to us as Bumper Gates
Let vivid banter voice in broad-flung States
Colonial ringside Doric, barbed to show
That slang is quick when figuring is slow
Upon the Telegraph. What thousands roar
At Rip Van Winkle and his sleepy score!
We honour all the names, the one not least
Of him whose homes are England and the East.
But all are noble in this noble quest
Of what was torn from England by the best
Australian type of grit. Below, on deck,
Each Argonaut will shuffle ways to wreck
Bradmanian skill, and every dreaming head
Will catch or bowl or run him out in bed.
Of him whose homes are England and the East.
But all are noble in this noble quest
Of what was torn from England by the best
Australian type of grit. Below, on deck,
Each Argonaut will shuffle ways to wreck
Bradmanian skill, and every dreaming head
Will catch or bowl or run him out in bed.
15
But what of Captaincy? Our Leader's brain
And smouldering fire are signals of a strain
In rigid keeping with the sport that hurled
A hardened ball of leather round the world.
In crisis, come what will, he never serves
The Golden Game with aught but iron nerves,
And never falters when prevailing odds
Are such as seem the malice of the gods.
And smouldering fire are signals of a strain
In rigid keeping with the sport that hurled
A hardened ball of leather round the world.
In crisis, come what will, he never serves
The Golden Game with aught but iron nerves,
And never falters when prevailing odds
Are such as seem the malice of the gods.
All hail the Sixteen Names! We think them those
Of likely lads to force down-under foes
To bear the second place, yet cheer the band
Returning laurelled to the Motherland.
'Twas bellying canvas lifted to the foam
That curls along the ceiling of his home
Imperial Neptune; but a steamer might,
With Ashes, bring the salty God in sight!
Of likely lads to force down-under foes
To bear the second place, yet cheer the band
Returning laurelled to the Motherland.
'Twas bellying canvas lifted to the foam
That curls along the ceiling of his home
Imperial Neptune; but a steamer might,
With Ashes, bring the salty God in sight!
(1932)
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