Match game chance, be it anywhere  on any land

                                                                       be it with sword or spear,bat or ball,  gun or lance,

forces have fought  in thicket and  on wicket

dauntless and bold, without fear,  songs  sonorous

have been sung, as arms raised , aimed and swung,

obdurate pride and steadfast hate in arenas Greek

or  Green  Grounds,  what  mighty  contest  up rising

For no  reason  just  or sound,  No crime no blast

 no war  no treason, just  another  cricket world  season,

                             

But This Game is a Combat  on war like footing

Padded  gloved helmeted , ready for the  shooting

thick as Autumnal Leaves and sedge

                                                        Police and crowd will watch the match,

All around the fence , from the edge to edge,

how many will hold and breathe their last ,

                                                         as wickets fall, or hands miss a catch,

 

                                                                        

all eyes on Mohali the final battle ground

a place Eternal Justice ordained and bound

No Trojan Horse or Aegean Sea, no ship or gun                 

velvet green, a white orb, 
                               


                     


                  

22 yards of  hit and run

to be weak on it  is unthinkably  miserable no contestant

spared, no mistake forgivable, who will  the  new possessor

be, Of a Cup,  One in a Game , One in Name , Just One!

Some say the Blues –some say the Greens -

The result is anxiously eagerly excitedly awaited

Whatever it may be , millions are awake , hearts

Beating , hands together in prayers,

The Best will soon be seen.

The aim is to protect the wicket  and make a high score

A game of skill , strategy entertainment a fight for sure

The rest is up to the Umpires two and the third

Above All it should be honest and fairplay-no ‘Trick It”

Or else it would really be a war –and ‘Not Cricket’

May The best Team Win-