Cars,
familiar faces,
all along Hogsback where the run was long and hard,
by the Memorial Chapel, Arthur Bishop house and Lower School yard.
Sitting together,
shaking hands, laughs and good times,
most sit and drink,
and few sit and think.
1st Eleven, crew and rifle team,
marching, cadet ball and uniform thing.
Like the measured pulse of racing oars,
your name being shouted out for roll call,
shouts from the teachers, coaches and housemasters,
driving the legs through footstops,
when going for Gold meant rowing in a boat named Endurement
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