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The Coliseum comes to Lord's

Watching two great fast bowlers at their work
it's like it must have been
to be there at the Coliseum games
when Nero ruled.
The crowd's on fire
lions paw the grass
the emperor settles in his box
and out they come
two gladiators armed with clubs.

A lion makes to charge.
Some of the crowd are crazed
baying for blood as he approaches.

The speed with which his claws rip air
astonishes.
The gladiator,dicing with death,
contorts to miss that fatal touch.
There's blood on the grass
as down he goes
and then another.

And that was how I saw it, years ago,
When Hall and Griffith ruled
at Lord's and England quaked.
Our openers were savaged in this style
when down the pavilion steps
he came as if he owned the place
Lord Ted,
his head held high,
dark eyes, patrician nose
disdainful of the company he kept.

We held our breath
as haughtily he turned to face
big Charlie, whose malevolent eye
could turn a man to stone.

A sickening ball came down
aimed for his head.
He never flinched.
White willow flashed
and ball was gone
crashing the boundary fence.

There was a pause.
For just a moment disbelief
took charge, then wild applause.

I’ll never know an hour like that again
or see such strokes, such slaughter
feel so proud
to see so many lions dead
on such green grass.

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