Eleven years he passed away
His frozen frame in bed of clay
Such buried treasures are so cold
My ways and fashion he did mole
This handsome bobby was sincere
Now World Cup games are here this year
Hear I no more my lover's call
Nor wash the pajamas of Paul.
He taught me the rules of cricket
And gave me a season ticket
To view a field set specific
His line and length were terrific
Hopes held high for a Windies win
I saw leg-before and off-spin
Now clad indeed with widow's weeds
My loving mate no longer breathes.
Memories’ grief is awful sad
This, I've pondered with mom and dad
Him crossing glory's open door
Abandon nights for me in store
Seeing him on his dying bed
These few last words to me he said
"This fort I cannot hold again"
Rain drops fell from the eyes of Payne.
(June 12, 2006)