Yes, we're the boys-
always playing with tongue or with pen,
And sometimes have asked-
shall we ever be men?
Shall we always be youthful and laughing and gay,
Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?
Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!
And when we have done with our life's lasting toys,
Dear Father, take care if thy children, the Boys!