In seventeen hundred sixty-six
On the banks of the old Raritan
A Dutchmen's college in the sticks
Oh, then began.
The revolution came,
With a boom, boom, boom,
And a zoom, zoom, zoom,
With a boom, and a zoom, and a boom.
But through all the shot and shell,
The Dutchmen, they fought like . . .

. . . Well, the old Queens flag on high shall fly forevermore.

In eighteen hundred sixty-nine
From a place with a mild bid to fame
Came twenty-five Tigers in their prime
To play a game.
And football then was born,
With a punt, punt, punt,
And a grunt, grunt, grunt,
With a punt, and a grunt, and a punt.
And although the Princeton yell
Echoed as loud as . . .

. . . Well, the old Queens flag on high shall fly forevermore.

In nineteen hundred and eighteen
Just a mile or a bit more from Queens
An institution we esteem
Came on the scene.
Oh, NJC we hail,
With an mm, mm, mm,
And an oh, oh, oh,
With an mm, and an oh, and an mm.
But when the last truth we tell
The rest may go to . . .

. . . Well, the old Queens flag on high shall fly forevermore.

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