A young boy stands among the crowd,Fifty thousand sing aloud.
Sun sets and rises and thirty years on,
He takes his seat next to his son.
He tells him of a man he did not know,
Compares him to today's hero,
Blessed with talent he strived for success,
Before a time of greed and excess.
The papers print a name and a face,
But his people saw an idol of passion and grace.
For many a year he served the crest,
With the pride of the lion upon his chest.
His dreams, chased often, but realised by few,
Chasing silver, draped in blue.
For all the honours his successors have known,
His legacy has been etched in stone.
He lit the path and led the way,
Set the bar for the stars of today.
Gone he may be, but forgotten never,
For the story of The King will live forever.
Daniel Clarke
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