Jim Hopkins: 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, 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