Crumble is what England did,
After starting with intent,
Against Australia’s quicks.

Crumble is what the Brisbane field did,
Meaning bowlers were caught out,
And no-balls abundant.

Crumble is what Kepler Wessels refused,
Standing firm when he had to,
And earning his runs.

Crumble is what of his shackles became,
After his debut hundred
Finally freed his arms.

Crumble is what Australia longed for,
When England batted again,
They were disappointed.

Crumble is what was needed in the end,
But Hughes and Hookes
Were in no such mood.

This entry was posted in 1980s, 1982, Australia, Cricket, England, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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