For some, it may be a game,
For others, a way of life.
Universally acclaimed is its fame,
For diminishing sorrow, abolishing strife.

The English started it,
From them the Aussies learnt,
In vain, was the British grit,
In agony, the bails burnt.

The Caribbeans beat them all,
Oh yes, they produced the greats.
Ambrose, Walsh, Wes Hall.
Awakened, cricket opened her gates!

Blessed be those graced,
Mother nature’s azure lands,
Those whose entire lives based,
On delivering the game to god’s own hands.

Even today the game brings tear,
To several millions across the world,
Forgetting our worries, neglecting our fears,
Into another dimension we are hurled.

Be it Lords, or Cape town,
Hobart or the gardens at Eden,
The game dons a sacred crown,
And the fields, the sanctity of heaven.

Along with mankind, the game shall evolve,
Enchanting minds, bowing heads along its way,
If there comes a time when all these were to dissolve,
Then god forbid, man lives to see such a day.