TO YOUR CALL ONCE MORE WE RALLY;
ALMA MATER HEAR OUR PRAISE;
WHERE THE WABASH SPREADS ITS VALLEY,
FILLED WITH JOY OUR VOICES RAISE.
FROM THE SKIES IN SWELLING ECHOES
COME THE CHEERS THAT TELL THE TALE
OF YOUR VICT'RIES AND YOUR HEROES,
HAIL PURDUE! WE SING ALL HAIL!

HAIL, HAIL TO OLD PURDUE!
ALL HAIL TO OUR OLD GOLD AND BLACK!
HAIL, HAIL TO OLD PURDUE!
OUR FRIENDSHIP MAY SHE NEVER LACK.
EVER GRATEFUL, EVER TRUE,
THUS WE RAISE OUR SONG ANEW
OF THE DAYS WE’VE SPENT WITH YOU,
ALL HAIL OUR OWN PURDUE!

WHEN IN AFTER YEARS WE’RE TURNING,
ALMA MATER, BACK TO YOU,
MAY OUR HEARTS WITH LOVE BE YEARNING
FOR THE SCENES OF OLD PURDUE.
BACK AMONG YOUR PATHWAYS WINDING
LET US SEEK WHAT LIES BEFORE,
FONDEST HOPES AND AIMS E’ER FINDING,
WHILE WE SING OF DAYS OF YORE.