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.
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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.
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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!
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