Die woorde is aanvanklik geskryf deur die bekende dr. P.C. Schoonees gedurende sy termyn as hoof van die skool. Later is daar enkele aanpassings gemaak. Die musiek vir die skoollied is geskryf deur T. Roering, die baie bekende komponis, en tot sy afsterwe ook onderwyser in diens van die Natalse Onderwysdepartement.
Ons is kinders van die noorde waar die mielie en die basboom groei ons trek op uit verre oorde na die skool waar welig bloei al die kunste en wetenskappe wat die lewe waarde gee stadig klim ons langs die trappe van geleerdheid tree vir tree.
KOOR
Aan-hou, aan-hou, aan-hou, wen! Hoor die magtige wekroep - wen! Aan-hou, aan-hou, aan-hou, wen! VRYHEID! VRYHEID!
In die stad waar Lucas Meyer, lank gelede sy republiek het gestig, staan jonge stryer, vas van wil en fier in blik, toegerus met geestes gawe, rein van hart en rats van hand. Willig om sy lyf en hawe op te offer vir sy land.
Waar ons werk of rond mag swerwe sweef die ideaal ons voor, Aan-hou wen! en tot ons sterwe klink die leuse in ons oor. Wenkend uit 'n ver verlede fluister maats ons toe: Getrou! Daarom beur ons in die hede, Handhaaf wil ons en ook bou.
The words were originally written by the well-known Dr P.C. Schoonees during his term as headmaster of the school. Certain minor changes were made at a later date. The music was written by T. Roering, the very well-known composer, who was also in the service of the Natal Education Department until his death.
Children of the Northern boundary Where the maize and wattle flourish, Come we far from farm and foundry To the school at which we nourish All the sciences all the arts, Which to life its virtues lend. Slowly up, till each departs, Learning's stairway we ascend.
CHORUS
Forward, forward, till we win! Hear the mighty call to win! Forward, forward till we win! VRYHEID! VRYHEID!
In this town where Lucas Meyer Reared a state by his decree Stands, well worthy of his sire, youth, of will and feature free - Youth soul-armoured for the strife Pure of heart, and strong of hand Freely offering life and limb In the service of our land.
Wheresoever we may wander Onward leads the great ideal, Perseverance! till death sunder, Sounds the watchword, true as steel. From the past, still uncontent Friends thus urge us: Still be true! Struggle in the living present To preserve and to renew.