We're the Gang from Thunderbird
We're the gang from Thunderbird
Thunderbird campers are we
We're bound together by the old teepee
(And may it ever flourish)
Wherever we may wander
North, South, East, or West
(Around the World)
You'll find that Thunderbird is the best
(Of all the rest)
Thunderbird our hats off to thee
To our colors true we shall ever be
So firm and strong united are we
With a rah, rah, rah for the green and white
Rah, rah, rah, rah
Rah for Camp Thunderbird
Thunderbird Thoughts
The whispering of the trees, the haunting melodies, and the brushing of the waves calling 'come to me'. Camping is no more than a moonlit lake, a lonesome shore, nestled by the pine-strewn land, man and nature hand in hand.
Thunderbird, what you are, reaches near and far. You stretch your fingers and you send stong young boys to proud young men.
Tell me the story of the things I have heard about the power of the Thunderbird. About the grace of his noble flight, about his eyes that peer into night. Paint me a picture of campers underwing, guided by the Thunderbird, learning how to sing. Songs learned in nature are always ours in part.
Camping makes us realize their ever in our heart
Reel-O-Reel
Reel-o-reel-o-reel-o-reel
Wow boys! How good I feel.
You gotta go to camp to enjoy a square meal.
(You gotta be a square to enjoy a camp meal)
So come along with me to Camp Thunderbird.
I met a would-be camper and he surely was a lout.
He thought he was a woodsman and he thought he was a scout.
But all he knew about a bed was how to tumble out
For he had never been to Camp Thunderbird.
He thought the lake would get him if it got above his knees
He didn't know mosquitoes from potato bugs or fleas
He used to carve his initials into furniture and trees
For he had never been to Camp Thunderbird.
He used to slop his food around; his manners were a sight
I don't believe he ever heard of sleeping out at night
And when he saw a hunting knife it scared him green and white
For he had never been to Camp Thnderbird.