Eton Boating Song. 
By Cory, William Johnson. 


Jolly boating weather
And a hay harvest breeze,
Blade on the feather,
Shade off the trees,
Swing, swing, together,
With your bodies between your knees.

Swing, swing, together,
With your bodies between your knees.

Skirting past the rushes,
Ruffling o'er the weeds
Where the lock stream gushes
Where the cygnet feeds.
Let us see how how the wine-glass flushes
At supper on Boveney meads.

Swing, swing, together,
With your bodies between your knees.

Harrow may be more clever,
Rugby may make more row,
But we'll row, row for ever,
Steady from stroke to bow,
And nothing in life shall sever
The chain that is round us now.

Swing, swing, together,
With your bodies between your knees.

Others will fill our places,
Dressed in the old light blue;
We'll recollect our races,
We'll to the flag be true;
And youth will be still in our faces,
When we cheer for an Eton crew.

Swing, swing, together,
With your bodies between your knees.

Twenty years hence this weather
Will tempt us from office stools:
We may be slow on the feather,
And seem to the boys old fools,
But we'll still swing together,
And swear by the best of schools.

Swing, swing, together,
With your bodies between your knees.