King Edward's School Song

Where the iron heart of England throbs beneath its sombre robe,
Stands a school whose sons have made her great and famous round the globe,
These have plucked the bays of battle, those have won the scholar's crown;
Old Edwardians, young Edwardians, forward for the School's renown.

"Chorus"
Forward where the knocks are hardest, some to failure, some to fame;
Never mind the cheers or hooting, keep your head and play the game.

Here's no place for fop or idler; they who made our city great
Feared no hardship, shirked no labour, smiled at death and conquered fate;
They who gave our School its laurels laid on us a sacred trust;
Forward therefore, live your hardest, die of service, not of rust.

Forward where the scrimmage thickens; never stop to rub your shin;
Cowards count the kicks and ha'pence, only care to save their skin.
Oftentimes defeat is splendid, victory may still be shame;
Luck is good, the prize is pleasant but the glory's in the game.

"The following verse was dropped when the School moved from New Street to Edgbaston":

Here no classic grove secludes us, here abides no cloistered calm;
Not the titled, nor the stranger, wrestles here to gain the palm;
Round our smoke-encrusted precincts labour's turbid river runs;
Builders of this burly city temper here their strenuous sons.

By Alfred Hayes, O.E., 1857-1936. Music by A. Somervell

ee also

King Edward's School

King Edward VI Camp Hill