"I'd start walkin' your way, you'd start walkin' mine; We'd meet in the middle, 'neath that old Georgia pine; We'd gain a lot of ground, 'cause we'd both give a little; There ain't no road too long when we meet in the middle
Where the Blue Ridge yawns its greatness; Where the Tigers play; Here the sons of dear Old Clemson, Reign supreme alway. Dear Old Clemson, we will triumph And with all our might That the Tiger’s roar may echo O’er the mountain height."
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