Day-Boys and Choristers

Under the shade of the great Tower
Where pass the goodly and the wise,
Year in, year out, winter and summer,
With scufflings and excited cries,
Football rages, not told in pages
Of Fame whereof the wide world hears;
A battle of divided Empire--
The day-boys and the choristers.

CHORUS
So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over,
And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane;
The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower--
When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again.

Golf balls, tennis balls, cricket and footballs,
Balls of all sizes and sorts were sent
Soaring by wall and arch and ivy
High, high over to banishment.
(Poor owner that loses!) And oh! but the bruises,
Scars, and red hacks to cover the brave
Shins of the boldest, when up and down playground
Victory surged, Victory, edged like a wave.

CHORUS
So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over,
And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane,
The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower--
When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again.

Little they knew, those boys, how in Flanders
And plains of France, in another day
A trial dreadful of nerve and sinew
For four long years should test alway
That playtime pluck, that yet should carry
Them through Hell’s during worst, and how
Europe should honour them, a whole world praise them,
Though Death tore their bodies and laid them low.

CHORUS
So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over,
And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane;
The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower--
When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again.