A lion, with triumphant stare,
holds high the pedigree that lay
hid in the books that line his lair.
Beneath, a pride in proud array
with golden grins agape to say
that colour (as a rule of thumb)
must meet with metal for display,
and: the sky-blue shall overcome.

Now, week by week, we've gone to Clare
for nine-score terms, until today,
to gather for a meeting, where
we sweep away naïveté,
and light and sacred draughts convey,
till ignorance at last is dumb,
and learning spread to far away,
and the sky-blue shall overcome.

Then, when that lion turns to prayer
(as even lions need to pray),
he asks the years to keep a care
to thrive us, drive us from decay,
that in the years to come shall stay
momentum in our pendulum
until we rest beneath the clay
and the sky-blue shall overcome.

Prince, may we learn while night and day
shall turn their long continuum,
while spring shall dress the woods with may,
and the sky blue shall overcome.

(Commissioned for, and delivered at, the sixtieth anniversary dinner of the CUH&GS. Video here.)