(Worth not Birth)

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Our pride is not in far-flung ancestry,
Emblazoned scroll, or pomp of heraldry.
No carvèd portals, breathing Time's appeal,
Great deeds of storied past to us reveal.
But, though our walls in modern mould are cast,
Our flag flies free atop Ambition's mast.
Our honoured name will stand the test of time.
The ladder's here.  Let him who can now climb.

"'Tis worth, not birth."  Be this our battle cry.
Stand up for truth!  Be honest!  Spurn a lie!
The strife is hard, and needs the strength of men. 
Hold fast!  Fight on!  If beaten, try again.

The sages say that all our human lore
Lies in a land which few can e'er explore.
And there are found those tests of will and grit.
Which baffle boys unless they use their grit.
Then up and on!  Gaytonians, show your stamp!
And play the game at desk, in sport and camp.
None but the brave can win Life's glorious meed.
The brave are they who act, whate'er their creed.
        "'Tis worth, not birth." etc.

Time holds his glass, invincible on earth,
And bids us go, equipped to prove our worth
In busy mart, on ocean deep and wide,
In throbbing town, or peaceful country-side.
Who recks the growth of years when Mirth holds sway?
A merry heart can banish Care away.
This is the key which opens wide the door
For all who wish to see Life's richest store.
        "'Tis worth, not birth." etc.

Music by George Thorn, words by Randall Williams


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