Here they come with the sunlight on the trumpets
Here they come with the banners flying high
In my throat I've a lumpy sort of feeling
And the bright gleam of pride is in my eye
Here they come with the clarinets a-wailing
Here they come rather bravely up the square
And I know in a moment I'll be cheering
And my fine Sunday hat will be high in the air
For the New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students Conservatory Band

Yes the New Ashmolean
Could have beat Napoleon
With all those deadly instruments at hand
There are those who favor the philharmonic flavor
But to me the finest in the land
Is the New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students Conservatory Band

Though they march only slightly out of tempo
Though they play just a trifle out of tune
Though there's just a suggestion in the oboe
Of the sound of a hound beneath the moon
Though the trombone's a little independent
And the drummer is not exactly choice
Still the old college spirit is upon me
And I shout every time at the top of my voice
For the New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students Conservatory Band

If you're analytical
Sensitive or critical
You'll like it more the farther back you stand
But to me it's bully, it satisfies me fully
When I hear that thunder close at hand
From the New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students Conservatory Band