(This is a tribute to the Australian fast bowler Mitchell Johnson, who just announced his retirement from international cricket.)

Behold! The carnage is here to annihilate,
Behold! A grenade in my left hand,
Behold! The ammo is fatal,
Behold! It’s about to explode,
Here runs the southpaw,
The ultimate outlaw,
With the virility of a stallion
He runs with a ball in hand,
It will fly off your skull,
It will kiss your neck.
Beware of this kiss!
It will leave bruises and lumps,
Save your wrists, your face,
For I gift hairline fractures,
And X-Ray reports to my beloved,
So duck hard, plunge.
The Kookaburra is all lit up,
Its flames will melt your pride to ashes,
As it did in The Ashes,
Beware! The bigger the moustache, the swifter the flow,
The sooner you come, the faster you’ll go,
My bouncers will deliver ballet dancing lessons too,
You’ll jump, twist, bow in your white costume,
And why shouldn’t they bounce,
When a kangaroo is to bounce,
I abhor the erected stumps behind you,
My occasional “fuller one” will make your furniture grovel,
I’m a maestro at this art of “Mitchcraft”,
But I draw humiliated, solemn faces,
They call me “Mitchell-Angelo”,
It’ll come down on you as a blizzard over a peak,
Your wand is useless, throw it away,
You want to spot the ball?
It’s in keeper’s gloves before you blink,
You won’t walk away with a shining armor,
I’ll leave my footsteps on it,
I won’t leave any stone unturned,
I’m good with that dispatching stick too; the bat,
I know how to muscle it 100metres away on mid-on,
My teasing down-the-order knocks are an absolute agitation for you,
I inherited Lille, Thompson and Lee,
The trilogy of Frankenstein,
It’s been ages since we’re in this killing business,
It’s a glorious legacy of outsmarting,
Making an absolute idiot of our adversary,
And I’m succeeded by a stark star called Starc,
The legacy is in safe hands,
Hands that compelled me,
To leave the throne with full esteem,
For once you’ve conquered all,
There remains nothing,
Here leaves Mitchell “The Mafia” Johnson…

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