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.