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Floreat Lewesia

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Click here to Play the Original 1949 Recording

Floreat Lewesia

FROM FIELD or town we tramp each day
Where Celt and Saxon led the way,
To where De Warrenne's Keep still frowns
Guarding the gateway of the Downs,
Here we each day the assault will make,
And in truth's quest no quarter take.
Then Floreat, floreat, floreat Lewesia
From Caburn's Height to Kingston Hill,
Let all who hear it feel the thrill
Of Floreat Lewesia.

IN MEADOWS sweet the monks of old
A cloistered pile raised as a fold
For learning and sobriety,
Strict abstinence and piety.
In these same meadows now, our School
Hands on the torch and keeps the rule.

EARL SIMON, from Mount Harry's Crest,
Gazed o'er the town and prayed to wrest
A victory from the enemies
Of England's laws and liberties.
Where Simon fought now may we bind
The cause of England with mankind.

THE AXE, the stake, the crackling fire,
Ascending smoke, the martyrs' pyre
In Lewes streets were once beheld;
With faith as strong here now we weld
Classes and creeds, opinion free,
In one united company.

FROM COUNTER, farm or office stool,
Let memory linger on the school,
Mem'ries of classroom, quad or hall,
Of flashing bat and thud of ball,
In honour schooled, in friendly strife,
We learnt to play the game of life.

N R Bradshaw

Words by Neville Bradshaw - Music by George Austin