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Down the shaft they shouted "Larwood!"
Short and stocky from the cage,
Strode a man to bowl for England,
In a dim remembered age.
Muscles tempered at the coal-face,
Body primed and all aglow,
Eager for the fields of battle;
Ghostly fields of long ago.

Diamond-hard from hewing 'diamonds',
Fame that grew round half the world;
From modest starts on local pitches
Headline banners were unfurled.
Larwood, Voce spearhead battalions,
Of sporting pitmen down the years;
Hard-fought contests, deeds of glory;
Memories shine on through time's tears.

From "A Carnival Crown and a Roasted Ox" by Mark Ashfield

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