Mo’s rivals in close order.
It seemed East Africa conspired
To find a new marauder.
‘It’s suicidal’ came the whisper
Of the keen observers.
But no, the athletes worked as teams
To test Mo’s true resources.
Again, again it swelled and surged,
New leaders in the battle.
But Mo held steady, two thirds back;
Those mind games proved his metal.
At 12 laps down of 25
The crowd began to wonder.
Could even Mo survive this test –
This man they sought to plunder.
From time to time Mo passed the field
As if to show his presence.
They surged again, not breaking him,
Field down to 12, the pace increased
Again – the stats will show this.
But still they went, relentless in
Their quest to have Mo vanquished.
The last 4 laps in 3 mins 10,
Mo spiked and jostled often.
400 metres still to go –
Opponents would not soften.
With one lap left we dreamed the dream,
The sound in great ascendance;
Then down the back straight, stumbling hard,
Mo dug for all his weapons.
Again he gathered all his strength,
He pushed into the top three.
With 80 metres still to go,
Mo strode out to make history.
“YOU LEGEND, MO!”, the cry went up
From Stratford ‘s great arena.
60,000 rose as one,
Saluting his achievement.
That race was harsh and brutal, and
Mo’s rivals were the real thing.
They threw the kitchen sink at him,
But Mo could not be beaten.
A fairytale you gave us, Mo,
Through grit and huge endeavour.
Arise, Sir Mo, you truly are
Great Britain’s National Treasure.