The Ashes of Glory

And the Warriors rode on
Battered and bruised they were
But a passion seared in them
Lit up by a flame raging for a hundred years
Remember they did, their fathers who passed to them
The baton of undying spirit
As the don looked over the shoulders of one bunch
The beefy Both inspired the other
They fought like men possessed, they fought like champions
And what a fiery bunch they were
There was the wizard, the conjurer
The one they said was six hundred old
And then there was the old master from down under
The one they said was the picture of perfection
There was the lightning man
The one they said killed at will
Together they reckoned they could plunder the queen’s land
Never were they beaten in more than a decade
But matched were they all this time
There was the quartet swinging away to glory
With the incredible hulk breathing down their necks
Then there was the man from Africa who never said never
But what mattered most was the general
The one who commanded the utmost confidence
The picture of serenity he was
Brave they said he was to threaten the unconquered
Brave because he had questioned the supremacy
Of the greatest army of our times
But greatness lies not in knowing
And oft repeated it may be, but greatness always lies in doing
And together they did the unthinkable, the unforeseeable
They thwarted the march of the nigh unmatchable kangaroos
Their war cries were loudest, their sabers the quickest
Folklore it was then, carved out forever on the sands of time
The names of those who fought for the Ashes of glory.
And as the night set in, a distant voice could be heard saying
“The king is dead, long live the new king”