King Cole died of disease of the lungs at Guy's hospital in London June 24 1868.
06 June 2018
King Cole in Memorium
To Britain he came the land of the West
As a stranger for honour and glory
and now as a hero intrepid and bold,
will his name be recorded in Story
For not with the sword did he covet renown
the battle he fought was at cricket
In lieu of grim weapons of warfare he strove
with the bat and the ball at the wicket.
Still fortune was faithless and fickle to him
not long in the strife he contended
and never did victory gladden his side
when ever the fort he defended.
Now run out for naught in the innings of life
by the grave of the good is he sleeping
yet sad are his comrades though record they well
how safe is their mate in our keeping.
But smile gallant fellows not few are the friends
who would soften the place of his pillow
It may be our children will garland his grave
E'er you have gone over the billow
And chieftains of England give ear to the song
of a minstrel with harp unromantic
You who have won laurels by Yarra's fair shore
Or bays gathered over Atlantic
If ever you traverse old ocean again
take guard of the bloody uprooter
for death may be chartered to bowl in a match
and trundled down with a 'shooter'
You measure the length of his terrible aim
as you sail on the sea in a clipper
so shall you be able his overs to drive
let him run and then pitch up a ripper
Not well could you fancy to slumber afar
In the shade of some desolate haven
not much would you value a tablet or tomb
by the hand of the Stranger engraven.
(written in the hand of C. Lawrence, taken from the original document)