There is a place where the yardlines end

And before the boundaries begin

And there the grass is painted red and white

And there those Hairy Dawgs dance with delight

And there Big Bad Bruce rests from his fight

To cool on his ice chilled rear-end.

Let us leave this place where Gators hold us back

And the Zebras attempt with their flags a hand to lend.

Past midfield we will lay the enemy low

We shall run with a run that is determined and know

That we go where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the yardlines end.

Yes we'll run with a run that is determined and know

That we go where the chalk-white arrows go

For the pylons, they mark, and the Bulldawgs, they know

The place where the yardlines end.