Mortarboard, gown, hood and lace come

guide me in learning, in ascension

tweet in modern Latin, in declension.

O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing

with one tongue, forever young,

let us follow better things.

In saintly word and perfect grammar,

to Academia's lofty space.

The trivium, quadrivium, all baser

thoughts now to efface.

O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing

with one tongue, forever young,

let us follow better things.

Cruel Bunter-bashing, cane-a-thrashing,

lines, detention, soon forgot.

O dark ploy! This grammar school boy

has paid the price and bought the lot.

In the quiet hours of life's twilight,

old school ties and photographs,

I call to mind the sore behind, the

tears, the last and longest laughs.

Empty desks and inkwells, darkened

chapels, cobweb corridors silent now.

Ghostly purple robes and dusty trencher,

what could be holier than thou?

O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing

with one tongue, forever young,

let us follow better things.

Meliora sequamur: may we follow better things.