The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet Sounds Is fit for Treason, Strategems, and Spoils.
Shak
Until the sands of life are run, We’ll sing to thee, PSI UPSILON.
Finch
Welcome, Brothers, Old & YoungThe College ChorusPsi U JoysAfter the BattleThe Ever Lovely MaidenPsi Upsilon Smoking SongPsi U FellowshipPsi U DoxologyDear Old ShrineEvensong