It seemed to begin so long ago,

A time for to learn, to school we go.

We walked along with our heads held to the sky

For we were proud of our school, Fairborn High.

Though English, phusics and plane geometry

We struggled and toiled without any harmony.

Our homework piled high with seming mysteria

No one could help us throughout our dileria.

Detention, invention, creation and nation

Was pounded and hammered without cessation.

The teachers to us were as they should be

A father, a mother for all eternity.

Now it's over, now it's done.

Our final steps and our fight is won.

Our schooling behind us, our life ahead

Now comes reality and the winning of bread.

The torch we pass to the juniors behind us

Our task is won and we have this to remind us

Our victories we won through one last dying try.

Now it's your turn to lead them, dear Fairborn High.

                                                by Carl Porter