Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na
Maidens of St Trinian's, gird your armour on.
Grab the nearest weapon; never mind which one.
The battle's to the strongest; might is always right.
Trample on the weakest; glory in their plight.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na
Stride towards your fortune boldly on your way,
Never once forgetting there's one born every day.
Let our motto be broadcast: "get your blow in first!"
She who draws the sword last always comes off worst.
