Hutchins! Hutchins! Grand and fair!
The only school we serve;
For thee till death we’ll do and dare,
And nought can make us swerve.
Let your voices ring, lads!
‘Tis the old school’s due.
Sing her praises, sing lads –
Hutchins! Hutchins! tried and true!
Thy name a’down the ages past,
Thy sons salute and cheer;
And so shall we while life doth last,
With lips and lives revere.
We learn thine ivied tower beneath,
To play the game of life,
And know they only win the wreath
Who strive in honour’s strife.
May all thy sons prove ever true,
Whate’er their gifts and powers,
That men may yield to thee thy due,
Beloved school of ours!