2005 reunion revisited

An old, old ballad, Ben Bolt, reminds us of our mortality.

Oh, don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,

And the master so kind and so true.

And the little nook by the clear running brook,

Where we gathered the flowers as they grew?

O'er the schoolmasters grave grows the grass, Ben Bolt,

And the running little brook is now dry;

And of all of the friends that were schoolmates, then,

There remains but you, Ben and I.

Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,

Sweet Alice with eyes hazel brown?

She wept with delight when you gave her a smile,

And trembled with fear at your frown;

In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt,

In a corner obscure and alone,

They have fitted a slab of granite so grey

And sweet Alice lies under the stone.