The glistening globe lifts up above the Green, the land now has a game
Cars and vans pull up, supplies unpacked and strategies worked out
The Duke awakened, with the willows too, coffee poured and whites laid out
Opposition shaking hands comparing yesterday's information gained
The teams take field for the early chances, shouts and appeals for what might have been
It just is
And over head, the chattering feathers swoop and glance upon the dry bright Green
The lush outfield ruffled, while beside the hut some children make their games
It could be shire or an African grass, but the importance never wavers
From continent to continent the horizontal wave still signals four runs more
The highlight of a week for most comes from between the bails, stumps and ropes
It just is
The white willow face smeared red from kisses from the Duke
Is the grand tradition sprung from all around the grateful globe, made pink, now free
From dusty, urban village plots to village greens with private halls and chocolate box homes
The nets that rustle in the summer's buzzing haze like disapproving tutors
Sweeping, blocking and pulling in the sun, so civilised before the tea
It just is
Lords’ widows guard the boundary ropes and compare the cakes and sandwiches
Welcome breeze and gusts of rare July cool the grass stained trousers
Two fingers raised and waved conduct applause from retired straw hats
While somewhere else the boy knocks off his homemade bails in a true Indian summer
A gift to all the world from England's gentry, well travelled and proud
It just is
Recaptured hopes of youth are snared as the Duke bobbles, bright side up
Declared in sporting nature, the willow caged , new willow bright unleashed
The cracks, the nicks, the spikes of bowlers lifting parched and arid wickets
Perspiration comes from nervous slips, while the Keeper's ragged gloves are poised to pounce
A Catch! A single finger raised brings further claps as the man takes his longest walk
It just is
The fired orb falls slowly, raising and waking other players for the day's play
The stumps and bails packed and stored while helmets donned are now undone
Deep cover heads back to offices and faxes, while gully takes the kids to school
Dishes, cups and saucers washed and responsibilities are argued once again
And the orb falls past the noble oaks, until next week the pitch is but a green
It just is