The batsman was in great form, his strokes both crisp & clean, He’d battled to his half century – three figures was his dream. On a wicket he’d grown up on against his mates playing for the Blues, He was battling for a higher selection – he wasn’t going to lose. For he’d always been a fighter – the next Bradman they dared to say, He was unorthodox; they would expose his faults….. but boy could this kid play! He’d honed his craft in Macksville – a boy playing amongst the men, He was surely going to wear the green and gold – it was just a case of when. He’d cut and hooked and slashed his way to get to sixty three, And then a ball sat up and beat his blade…. Surely it could not be! He must have thought ‘how’d I miss that chance to smash another four?’ As eleven white clothed angels cradled him on the green SCG floor. He’s padded up in heaven now – on the best wicket he’s even seen, Facing up to the worlds best bowlers, he desperately wants that Baggy Green. For he is forever chasing the thirty seven more runs he needs for that century And the glory, the mateship, that chance to shine - sadly it cannot be. We’ve lost a gem in Hughesy – Test cricketer number 408, He was about to step up once again. This time he’d be great. Twenty six Tests isn’t enough – we wish you’d had some more, You’ve left us far too early – our tears wont flow, they’ll pour. So raise your bat Phillip Hughes – a champion there is no doubt, Forever in our hearts you remain – 63 not out. ( I didnt write this but Im not sure who I got it from )
Posted on: Fri, 28 Nov 2014 12:18:15 +0000
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