One ride away,

a ride filled with men.

To battle they go,

in defense of their kin.

Some sleep and some pray,

some bask in the din,

some think about their future,

ALL hope for a win.

The warriors they ride,

through snow and through sleet,

through the shadow of the Reaper,

as he looms in defeat.

The cowardly will run,

but these men they are not.

These are battle bred brothers,

and only fear they forgot.

As the courage fills their veins,

they stand United and Strong.

These Sons of Chicago,

ride on and ride on.

Only hours remain,

until the rest of their lives,

Will they soar like Eagles?

Or will they drop like flies?

Until the final whistle blows,

they will answer the call,

They will give every last drop,

until the last snap of the ball.