St. Bernard’s extends a warm welcome to their Old Boys

— T.F. Allen Bibby ’34

I look back now on my St. Bernard’s years with affection and appreciation. We were the recipients of a wonderful education, one that sticks to the ribs over the course of time.

Junior School Song

When you first come to school,
You must make it a rule,
Though a very small chap,
In whatever may hap,
To remember you wear the School Shield on your cap.

CHORUS:
For St. Bernard’s good name
For St. Bernard’s fair fame,
Remember, remember,
You must play the game.
When the bell rings for work,
And you’re tempted to shirk,
Though your work’s in arrears
And you’re harassed by fears,
Just remember to smile and to hold back your tears.

(Chorus)

When to play you go out
And your pluck is in doubt,
Win or lose, never care;
You must do, you must dare,
And remember your play must be fair and all square

(Chorus)
Middle School Song

When you’ve really finished breakfast,
And your dressing’s nearly done,
And your homework looks complete and fairly neat,
You must hurry to St. Bernard’s
If you want to have some fun,
For all the boys are rushing up the street.

CHORUS:
Walking, riding, rolling up on skates,
Sitting in the school ’bus, grumbling when it’s late.
Never mind the weather, wet or warm or cool,
Here we go,
Fast or slow,
Off to St. Bernard’s School.
When the winter winds are wailing,
And the failing lights grow dim,
And the snowy street you beat beneath your feet,
Still you hurry to St. Bernard’s
And you gambol in the “gym,”
For all the boys are rushing up the street.

(Chorus)

When the snow and ice are over,
And to warmth and sunshine yield,
For football or for baseball you must meet;
So you hurry to St. Bernard’s
For a frolic in the field—
So all the boys are rushing up the street.

(Chorus)
Upper School Song

October and November
With golden sunshine gleam,
And if you’re then a member
Of St. Bernard’s Football Team,
You will find that life’s a boon,
Such a state of balmy bliss,
That each happy afternoon
You will whistle tunes like this.

(WHISTLING CHORUS)
January, February
Are the days of doleful dumps,
Made by some malignant fairy
Just for measles, colds, and mumps.
You will find an air of gloom
And a state of little ease,
For from every heated room
You will hear a cough or sneeze.

(SNEEZING CHORUS)
April comes and merry May;
There is laughter in the air;
All our troubles pass away
And we sing, Begone dull care.
You will do a daily dance
As the Holidays draw near,
And whenever there’s a chance
Give a good St. Bernard’s cheer.

(CHORUS)

Rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah!
Rah, rah, rah! St. Bernard’s!
St. Bernard's! St. Bernard’s!
Old Boys’ Song

Sing we a song of our first Alma Mater,
Home of our tenderest triumphs and fears;
Little the earth has to offer hereafter
Can equal the hopes of those earliest years.

CHORUS:
So let us join in a jubilant chorus,
School days and college alike, let us sing;
Praise the high summer that lies rich before us,
Fuller in fruit from the sowing of spring.
Happy the hours when the world lay before us,
Budding and bright in the spring of the year;
Only the shadows of April passed o’er us,
Leaving each vista more vividly clear.

(Chorus)

Strong suns of noonday our hearts may embolden,
Gladden and cheer as we wend on our ways;
Yet through the mists of the morning all golden
Still shall we see our St. Bernard’s young days.

(Chorus)
Football Song

We do not mind the winter wind
Or weep o’er summer’s bier,
Nor care a jot if cold or hot,
So long as football’s here;
And fat and thin can all join in,
The sport is all the same;
There’s health and fun for every one
Who plays the good old game.

CHORUS:
So pass and kick,
And dribble and trick
And merrily chase the ball,
There’s naught to choose
’Twixt win and lose—
The game’s the game for all.

Now keep the goal in safe control,
Both hand and foot a shield,
While good fullbacks, with sounding thwacks,
The ball send up the field;
The halfbacks then will charge the men
And feed the forwards fast,
Until they shoot with either boot
And get a goal at last.

(Chorus)
Baseball Song

Away, away to fields of play!
What is the game we play today?
The game we name is the best of all,
From breezy Spring to glowing Fall,
Our own great game of Baseball, Baseball!

CHORUS:
A pitch, a crack, the ball flies back,
A swift despatch, a clever catch;
Quicken your pace and race for base;
You’re safe! You’re out!
Oh, hear us shout at Baseball.
Clap on a cap and come with me
And view the plate and bases three;
You’ll surely hear a stirring call
To play the game, whate’—er befall—
Our own great game of Baseball, Baseball!

(Chorus)

Of Golf or Hockey take your fill,
Play Polo, Tennis, what you will;
Seek every sport from bower to stall,
Nulli secundus, King of all
Is our great game of Baseball, Baseball!
The Sportsman’s Song

Today I play at Soccer,
For summer’s fun is fled,
And take from out my locker
My shirt of white and red;
Anon, when Baseball calls me
All in my red and white,
Whatever else befalls me,
I play with all my might.

CHORUS:
I never seem to make a team,
My name’s unknown to fame;
The captain’s list my name has missed,
Yet still I play the game.
And when the playfields spurning,
My soul to study turns,
To light the lanes of learning
My lamp at midnight burns;
And with a will compelling
I learn to calculate,
To write and read with spelling
And verbs to conjugate.

CHORUS:
Yet though I sip from scholarship
No taste of honey’d fame,
No triumphs scored on Honour Board,
Yet still I play the game.
St. Bernard’s School Hymn

In all things whether small or great,
May we with equal mind await
The fall of fair or evil fate;
And, free from envy, malice, hate,
With conscience clear as crystal pool,
Do honour to St. Bernard’s School.

So in the merry hours of sport
May every field be fairly fought,
Without unkindly word or thought
And may we act as sportsmen ought,
With judgment true and courage cool,
In honour to St. Bernard’s School.

When pride of health and youthful might
Hide from our eyes that kindly light
Which shows us how to fight the fight,
To help the weak, the wrong to right,
Then may we keep the Golden Rule
For home, for country, and for School.
Christmas Carol, No. 1

Uprouse ye, friends and neighbours,
For Christmastide is here,
And rest ye from your labours,
To spread your Christmas cheer;
The guiding star shines yonder,
With peace and promise bright;
No evil thing may wander
Abroad this Holy Night.

The air is sweetly bearing
The music of the bells;
Of love and happy faring
The glowing yule log tells;
Long may the Christmas story
To young and old be dear,
And give a passing glory
To speed the dying year
Christmas Carol, No. 2

Listen, the winds of the winter are wailing,
Daily the glad light of summer is failing;
Snowflakes are softly and silently sailing,
Christmas is nighing,
Cloud wrack is flying,
And clear in the crystal the stars shine again.
Hark! in the stillness the sweet sound of singing,
Heralding angels to earth now are bringing
Tidings of Peace and Good-will unto men—
Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!

Come, gather and ponder the God-written pages,
The story whose echoes resound through the ages
With comfort and joy both to shepherds and sages.
Yule logs are glowing,
Blessings bestowing,
That drive out the spirits of darkness defiled,
And give a warm welcome to brother and stranger,
And send precious gifts to the mean, lowly manger
To lay at the feet of the wonderful Child.
Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!
Alma Mater

Our early school-days let us sing,
The early days that fly on lightest wing,
And catch in changing colours gay,
The clear spring sunshine’s morning ray,
To gild the task whose distant goal,
Scarce stirs as yet the struggling soul
That knowledge seeks at thy behest,
Dear Alma Mater, first and best.

Thy morning gates are open wide,
And toil and sport the day divide,
Eager we seek, with duty done,
The frolic fields of happy fun,
In mimic contests keen complete,
Careless of victory or defeat;
The sport alone by thee is blest,
Dear Alma Mater, first and best.

Sturdy and true the tree shall grow,
Whose roots run broad and deep below,
With fragrant bloom that long shall last,
Like roses stored in summers past,
And taintless fruit which more and more
Gives harvests rich with golden store
New-nourished from thy faithful breast,
Dear Alma Mater, first and best.
The Masters’ Song

We are tender and kind, to small faults we are blind,
And youth’s indiscretions pass by like the wind.
In all things be sure our hope and our trust is,
With sweetness and light to give absolute justice;
By birth and by training our evident bent is
To try to prove worthy in loco parentis.

Then, besides the mens sana, we carefully nourish
The corpus, and with us athletics all flourish;
Be it sphere or spheroid, we can cleverly chase all,
While critics agree we are wonders at baseball.
In short, at all sports we are skillful and willing
With boxing and fencing and wrestling and drilling.
The Gym Song

When the Park is just a puddle and the field is like a pond,
We can take our recreation in the Gym:
For of indoor soccer, basketball and pins we’re very fond
When the chance of getting out is rather slim.
And it’s there that we rehearse our Elizabethan verse
And the lecturers delight our every whim.
For when it snows or rains we can stimulate our brains
With mental recreation in the Gym.
So we don’t care a rap what the weather man says.
We can take our recreation in the Gym.

You can learn to use a rapier like the famous musketeers
By taking recreation in the Gym;
The noble art of self-defense will drive away your fears
When you meet a foeman rather large of limb.
So if you’re on your mettle, and you have a score to settle,
And your countenance is just a trifle grim,
You can fight it out with gloves till you feel like cooing doves.
It's a form of recreation in the Gym.

CHORUS:
For we don’t care a rap what the weather man says—
We can take our recreation in the Gym.