In the Susquehanna Valley,
Land of rippling streams and rills,
Lies a busy little city
Nestling midst the Blue Ridge Hills;
And ’tis there our Alma Mater
May her praises never die,
Lifts her stately tow’r toward Heaven,
Dear beloved Old Sayre High.
Hail to thee, our Alma Mater,
Hail to thee, our High School Dear,
May thy sons to thee be loyal,
Sing thy praises loud and clear;
May thy daughters ever praise thee,
As thru life they wend their way
May our love for Alma Mater
Grow increasing day by day.
For we’re all staunch and loyal
And we’re each the other’s friend,
We will stick by our colors
Until this life shall end.
So while we’re together
Let us give a ringing cheer,
For the praise of Alma Mater,
For our Sayre High School so dear.