And still the lads go gaily forth in snow, or wind, or rain,
With hearts elate to row the race, and spurt, and spurt again.
A health to you, brave AMPTHILL; the cheering echoes far;
For FLEICHER and the NICKALLS' lads—nobile fratrum par.
A shout goes up for WILKINSON, the stalwart and the strong,
For REGGIE ROWE, and dauntless KENT, who kept the stroke so long.
For POOLE, the tidy bowman, and HEYWOOD-LONSDALE too;
Thrice thirty cheers for all of them, that gallant Oxford Crew.
Nor,—though the years speed onward, and others wield the oar,
Though others race and win or lose where we have raced before;