By now, you should be well aware that this column enjoys privileged and exclusive access to the metred musings of a most distinguished and eminent New Zealander.
Quite why this should be so is an unfathomable mystery. But so it goes. Ours not to reason why, as they say in Parliament.
And,
whatever the reason, the fact remains that our very own recently appointed and deeply metaphysical Poet Laureate, Mr Jam Hipkins (of no fixed adobe), has seen fit to grant this column the exclusive right to reprint whatever epic works spring from his fertile pen.
And they most certainly have been springing from this week. It's been an action-packed seven days, with dramatic announcements and celebrations coming thick and fast (which is, coincidentally, precisely how various lady persons describe Mr Hipkins). No matter! It's the poetry that counts. And there's been plenty of that, dear reader!
Two particular subjects have preoccupied our bard, the first being last Monday's long-awaited announcement of this year's All Black squad. Sadly, there's one aspect of Mr Mitchell's selections which appears to have upset the nation's top rhymer, as this slightly bitter ballad makes clear ...
What a fine team of fellows!
Some Blues, Reds and Yellows
It's a most cosmopolitan squad
True, they haven't put in
Our most saintly Christian
But that's not the thing that seems odd
See, we've got Rokocoko
And Mils (slightly loco!!)
And Nonu and Umaga, too
And we've also got Holah
(A gent and a scholar)
A Meeuws and a Mealamu
And out in the line
You'll find someone Devine
Plus a military Mauger - that's great!
And John's also picked Hoeft
Who can hoist chaps aloft
And So'oialo is our Number 8
They've squeezed in a Marshall
(To whom some are partial)
There's a Thorn bird
(Plus one with an "e"
Who might even be meaner
Than Muli-a-ina)
But one thing's still lacking, you see
For where is the gruff man
The rough and the tough man
Who'll give us some grunt and some biff?
Yes, where is the plain chap
The simple and sane chap
Oh, where is the All Black called Smith?
So much for the first big news of the week. And with the selection of the team being such a major talking point, it's really no surprise that our Laureate has addressed it in his own idiosyncratic fashion.
And no surprise either that the other event to which he's devoted his attention is one that has, quite properly, received enormous coverage over the past two or three days.
We speak here of the 50th anniversary celebrations of the ascent of Everest, which has attracted enormous attention right around the world.
And rightly so. Naturally, given the magnitude of the moment, the Laureate has felt compelled to produce a verse which is slightly more sombre than some we've encountered in the past.
On that note we leave the rest to him ...
Two men on a mountain
A smile on each face
No one's been higher
Or closer to space
Above them, there's nothing
Beneath them, the world
They pause at the summit
A flag is unfurled
Two men on a mountain
Both simple and sound
To get to the top
They kept their feet on the ground
And one got a Knighthood
And one shared the fame
And both were transformed
Yet both stayed the same.
Two men on a mountain
Four legs on the granite
Each sharing the air
At the top of the planet
It's an achievement to savour
But never to share
We can't steal their thunder
We simply weren't there
And the thing we should ponder -
As great as their climb
Is the thing they did next
Out of step with our time
We're accustomed to boasting
And claiming the glory
And putting ourselves
At the heart of the story
We've grown used to the braggers
All boastful and flash
With hands thrusting out
To rake in the cash
But these two men on this mountain
Did something now rare
And this second achievement
Is one they still share
In the lowlands of ego
Where we worship the worst
They have never revealed
Which one got there first
<I>Jim Hopkins:</I> Metred muser's ballad to the All Blacks (and others)
By now, you should be well aware that this column enjoys privileged and exclusive access to the metred musings of a most distinguished and eminent New Zealander.
Quite why this should be so is an unfathomable mystery. But so it goes. Ours not to reason why, as they say in Parliament.
And,
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