We are a class of Juniors gay,
Juniors gay,
The highest class in school this year,
school this year.
If it were not for us today,
They'd have no school at all I fear.
The Freshmen and the Sophomores,
Sophomores,
Oh! without us what would they do,
what would they do?
Our themes they could not copy o'er,
And their distinctions would be few.
Chorus:
Oh, we are the learned Juniors,
And of wisdom we've our share
Know as much as haughty Seniors,
And our fame is rare
Praise us, praise us, kind friends, praise us,
Praise us, praise us,
For to our class we'll loyal be, loyal be,
And to know us there'll be a fuss,
For Juniors, Juniors wise are we.
In logic we are wondrous wise,
wondrous wise,
In Cicero we never miss,
never miss,
In Chemistry we'd take the prize,
And writing themes, to us, is bliss.
We are the teachers' chief delight,
chief delight,
We always try hard them to please,
them to please,
And strive with all our main and might
Not like the Sophs, their trails increase.
