Dedicated to Harry Howell


	Dedicated to Harry Howell Thank you for showing us how to play the game You will be dearly missed grandad
	VITAI LAMPADA There�s a breathless hush in the Close to-night- Ten to make and the match to win- A bumping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in. And it�s not for the sake of a ribboned coat, Or the selfish hope of a season�s fame, But his Captain�s hand on his shoulder smote- �Play up! play up! and play the game!� The sand of the desert is sodden red, Red with the wreck of a Square that broke. The Gatlin�s jammed and the Colonel dead The Regiment blind with dust and smoke. The river of death has brimmed its banks And England�s far, and honour a name. But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks- �Play up! play up! and play the game!� This is the voice that year by year While in its place the school is set Every one of its sons must hear And none that hear it dare forget. This they all - with a joyful mind, Bare through life like a torch in flame. And falling - fling to the host behind, �Play up! play up! and play the game!�
	Sir Henry Newbolt 1862 - 1938 (Vitai Lampada, 1897)

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VITAI LAMPADA