If so we might beat the Blue.
And in mem'ry now I await the sign,
And 'tis "Seven, four, sixteen, ninety-nine!"
That's the fullback's signal to buck the line,
And I spring to take the ball.
Then I feel the crash as they try to stay
My course, but they come too late
And I shake them off and get underway;
But the vision breaks for I've passed my day,
And the mantle clock strikes eight.
Then I look at that Crimson flag anew,
And again it recalls the strife
Of those good old days when we met the Blue,
And harder men fought for that faded hue
Than they would have fought for life.
And so we fought in the years gone by
When the Crimson faced the Blue,
So others will fight in the seasons nigh,
And ever the motto is "Do or die,"
For the faded Crimson hue. CATHARINE BARTLETT.