Come back, those days of love and trust, those times of hope and fear,
When girls were girls, and hearts were hearts, about old Blankton Weir!
Those brilliant sunny mornings when we tumbled out of bed,
And hurried on a few rough clothes, and to the river sped!
What laughing joyaunce hung about those merry days agone,
We clove the rushing current at the early flush of dawn!
Tremendous headers took we in the waters bright and clear,
And splashed and dashed, and dived and swam, just off old Blankton Weir.
Then that pleasant picnic-party, when all the girls were there,
In pretty morning dresses and with freshly-braided hair;