In ancient Greece, sporting victories were recorded in verse and the odes of Pindar, in particular, immortalised many an athletic triumph. In that spirit, the Arts Council of England optimistically sent the writer David Fine to Australia in November to cover the battle for the Ashes as a poet-in-residence.

Our cricketers, of course, are now returning in dribs and drabs under cover of night, rather than parading together through a triumphal arch and, as a result of their whitewash in the Test series, Fine's job as official eulogist for the team became an increasingly grim duty. Throughout the debacle, though, those loyal cricket fans who logged on to his website found solace in his words. As the prospect of a 5-0 drubbing loomed large last week, Fine penned lines designed to be sung to the tune of Paul Simon's 'Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover':

'Maybe it doesn't matter
If we go and lose five nil.
We've already lost what we
Aimed to fulfil.
We can't change
Those first three games,
There must be fifty ways
To lose the Ashes.'

Fine had been signed up by the Arts Council to write a poem for each day of play. An academic who has also been a social worker, Fine has written poetry for the past 18 years and, while his public-funded trip to Australia raised some eyebrows, he is quick to point out that he is far from the first, or the most illustrious, poet to choose to write about cricket.

'Wordsworth, Tennyson, Betjeman, Housman, Chesterton and Hughes have all gone out to bat for cricket, in verse,' he said. Cricket and poetry have shared the same pitch for centuries, he argues. 'Writers such as this have picked up the intrinsic poetic qualities of the game. Its ritual, form, conventions, and most of all pace and length, mirror how poetry is written and read. A line is a ball, a rhyme perhaps a wicket.'

While Fine, 53, admits to being a 'short-arse' who hasn't played cricket for nearly 40 years, several great cricketers themselves have had a literary bent. The England fast bowler John Snow published a collection of poetry in the early 1970s, while more recently the former England captain Mike Atherton has written a highly acclaimed book on gambling, and Australian Steve Waugh's autobiography came out last year.

Andrew Motion, the poet laureate, supports the unconventional Arts Council decision to commission a poet to cover the matches, but warned this weekend that great poetry should not be demanded from such an experiment. 'It is less crazy than some places poets have been sent to work, although there is always a danger that nothing will come out of it but a collection of ditties.'

Motion, who is also a cricket fan, suggested that Fine may actually have benefited from the comprehensive nature of England's defeat: 'Tragedy often has more voice than something more in the middle of experience,' he said. 'Although if Fine really thinks this is a tragedy he should get out more.'

Fine, who leaves Australia tomorrow, agreed that his job was easier in adversity. 'Had the result been reversed, my task would have been harder,' he said. He found it especially easy to write when he was most angry, for instance, as he watched the team's poor performance in Adelaide. 'It was the worst performance I have ever seen from an English team and I have been a sports fan for many years, so I have seen some very bad play. People have said that these angry poems were really good.'

Bad play in this Test did become an artistic problem at times, though, Fine conceded. 'I mean, how many ways can you spell 'lament'?'

Cricket fan Joe Norris, 44, from London made the trip out to Australia too and is sceptical about the use of a poet-in-residence. 'I am sure it is a wonderful thing,' he said. 'But it certainly wasn't going to help us win the Ashes. I know that cricket and poetry have gone together over the years but if you look at the Barmy Army I don't think it is going to mean much to most of them.'

Down the ages, cricket has repeatedly been used as a nostalgic metaphor for love of country and the passing of time. Henry Newbolt's lines in 'Vitai Lampada' have become shorthand for a British brand of romanticised heroism:

'And it's not for the sake
Of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote
"Play up! play up! and play the game!" '

Then there is the verse composed by Francis Thompson as he recalled watching the batting stars AN Hornby and Dick Barlow at Old Trafford:

'For the field is full of shades as I near a shadowy coast,
And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost,
And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host
As the run stealers flicker to and fro,
To and fro:
O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago!'

Albert Neilson Hornby (1847-1925) was, coincidentally, also the England cricket captain who lost the Test match to Australia at home in 1882, and thereby gave rise to the contest for the Ashes.

This weekend Fine was still looking for a rhyme for whitewash, before packing his cases for the sad journey home.

Line and length

David Fine on the first day's play at Melbourne: Boxing Day

No village green or country paddock,
The mower misses the long grass wrapped
Around the roller and peeling sight screens
Pushed over for winter, benches tipped up,
In brass-plated memory of Roger or Ethel
Who spent many a long afternoon
Pint or Thermos to hand and oblivion
The world passed by. At the heart of it all
Lies twenty-two yards, wicket to wicket,
Tenth of a furlong, a chain
To tie bat to ball, a landscape
Of former empire, medieval origins,
Acres ploughed through the mind,
One hundred and five thousand assemble
To worship