Poetry

The Immortal

John Whitworth

 

“Please God, let Victor Trumper score a century today against England—out of a total of 137 all out”

 —Neville Cardus

 

Here’s to the king of bat and ball;

Let’s toast him with a bumper,

The finest cricketer of all:

I give you Victor Trumper.

 

A man of honour, true and straight—

You read it in his face—

A batsman peerless, exquisite,

True heir to Doctor Grace,

 

He had the gift, the time, the touch,

The suppleness of limb.

He did not care for money much.

It did not care for him.

 

Cricket’s a science and an art—

So many things to learn.

Cricket’s a game—get in, get out

And give your mates a turn.