Our boys take the field today with the spirits of great Michigan teams on their shoulder.
The Michigan Tradition
The mist hangs heavy over Millers farm
A pastoral scene with quiet charm
Daylight breaks no hint of ardor
On verdant hills above Ann Arbor
Yost stands tall this morning on the hill
His vision, his passion the mission, his will
He sees the great arena rising here
Young men in battle before throngs that cheer.
The winds that cross this hallowed ground
Whisper tales of future found
Of noble soldiers clad in blue
Gladiators strong and true
In the morning mist he sees them all
The ghostly visions come to call
Glimpses of the future glories
The timeless tales, heroic stories
For all great moments yet to come
The Tradition is a greater sum
Yost knows here the truth runs deep,
games to win, but promises to keep
While others fight for fleeting fame
the best men here respect the game
They act with honor, right and true
The Tradition of the Maize and Blue
As sun burns off the morning fog
the pictures fade until they're gone
Yost has seen what is to come
He knows his role, what must be done.
Returning to the fields below
Yost smiles as he turns to go
He hears it faintly on the breeze
The Victors whistling through the trees
Go Blue
The mist hangs heavy over Millers farm
A pastoral scene with quiet charm
Daylight breaks no hint of ardor
On verdant hills above Ann Arbor
Yost stands tall this morning on the hill
His vision, his passion the mission, his will
He sees the great arena rising here
Young men in battle before throngs that cheer.
The winds that cross this hallowed ground
Whisper tales of future found
Of noble soldiers clad in blue
Gladiators strong and true
In the morning mist he sees them all
The ghostly visions come to call
Glimpses of the future glories
The timeless tales, heroic stories
For all great moments yet to come
The Tradition is a greater sum
Yost knows here the truth runs deep,
games to win, but promises to keep
While others fight for fleeting fame
the best men here respect the game
They act with honor, right and true
The Tradition of the Maize and Blue
As sun burns off the morning fog
the pictures fade until they're gone
Yost has seen what is to come
He knows his role, what must be done.
Returning to the fields below
Yost smiles as he turns to go
He hears it faintly on the breeze
The Victors whistling through the trees
Go Blue
