NOW let us praise our school,

As she dreams by beauty surronded,

Spinney and park and lawn,
And far hills rimming the sky;
But her beauty is quick with life,
Fresh flowing from depths unsounded,
And she dreams of the glory of those
Who were hers in the days gone by.

2.
The swift
generations pass;
But still she offers unstinted,
The waters of joy and despair,
The bitter draught and the sweet;
Her hundred children tread
In the steps by thousands printed,
And the lives that were given for love
Are the flowers about their feet.
3.

For our School is more than a school to us,

And Bilton more than a name:
And when other friends grow cool to us,
We shall find her still the same.
Wherever we go her praise is sung,
Whenever we meet we say:
The finest school when I was young,
And the finest school today.

When we are gone, long gone,

And the web of the world has
entwined us,
Then we shall hear her speak,
Like the whisper of trees in rain,
And the voice of our first dear love
Shall shatter the fetters that bind us,
And the light shall come back to our
eyes,
And our hearts be simple again.