| 1 mf | Four square she stands to all the winds |
| That sweep the northern skies | |
| The school that’s older than her sons | |
| And dear to them, and wise. | |
| Her city home lies South of her, | |
| The strong backed hills stand North; | |
| To these her sons shall lift their eyes | |
| When they at last fare forth. | |
| REFRAIN | |
| Boys, now men, who went before | |
| Beckoned by some further shore, | |
| cres. | Took with them their faith & pride |
| On the long outswinging tide. | |
| 2 | Young lives have made her what she is, |
| And a hundred years and more | |
| Have drunk from her unfailing springs | |
| Of mother wit and lore. | |
| The truth that's folly to the fool | |
| In her is manifest: | |
| The more she gives them of her life | |
| The more her life is blest. | |
| 3 p | Not all of them is lost to her, |
| Their voices echo still, | |
| mf | Uplifted in the morning hymn, |
| Far calling on the hill. | |
| The bowler's arm, like breaking wave - | |
| The leap that clears the bar - | |
| dim. | Dear memories to keep of them |
| When they have journeyed far. |
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