From the hills of Maine to the western plain,
Or where the cotton is blowing;
From the gloomy shade of the northern pine,
To the light of the southern seas;
There’s a name held dear and a color we cheer
Wherever we find it glowing;
And the tears will rise to our longing eyes
As it floats on the evening breeze.
When the day is done and the western sun
Is painting in flashing glory;
Across the skies with gorgeous dyes
The color we love so well;
We love to sit as the shadows flit
And praise it in song and story;
We love to shout as the light dies out
A good old Wabash yell.
Our prayers are always thine, our voices and hearts combine,
To sing thy praise when future days shall bring thy name before us.
When college days are past, as long as life shall last,
Our greatest joy will be to shout the chorus…..
Dear Old Wabash, thy loyal sons shall ever love thee,
And o’er thy classic halls, the Scarlet flag shall proudly flash.
Long in our hearts, we’ll bear the sweetest mem’ries of thee,
Long shall we sing thy praises, OLD WA-BASH!