It is arguably the most famous fight song in the history of professional football. If you grew up in the DMV—the shorthand for the D.C., Maryland, and Virginia area—the brassy opening notes of Hail to the Redskins are probably hard-coded into your DNA. For decades, those chords meant Sunday afternoons at RFK Stadium, the smell of cheap beer, and the literal shaking of the grandstands as the "Hogettes" danced in their dresses and pig snouts.
But history is messy.
The song isn't just a melody. It’s a cultural artifact that has survived world wars, massive societal shifts, and eventually, the complete rebranding of one of the NFL's oldest franchises. While the Washington Commanders have moved on to new anthems, the original song remains a point of deep nostalgia for some and a painful reminder of a complicated past for others. To understand why it matters, you have to look at the 1930s, a time when the NFL was barely a blip on the national radar compared to college ball.
The Birth of a Stadium Anthem
The year was 1937. George Preston Marshall, the team’s founder and a man known for his showmanship (and his stubbornness), wanted something that felt bigger than a simple football game. He moved the team from Boston to Washington D.C. and realized he needed a hook. Marshall wasn't just a sports guy; he owned a laundry business and had a flair for the theatrical. He founded the "Redskins Marching Band," which was actually the first of its kind in the NFL.
He didn't write the music alone. He tapped Barnee Breeskin, the orchestra leader at the Shoreham Hotel, to compose the jaunty, upbeat tune. But the lyrics? Those came from a surprising source: Corinne Griffith. She was a silent film star and, at the time, Marshall’s wife.
Honestly, it’s wild to think about a Hollywood actress writing the words that 50,000 screaming fans would eventually belt out every weekend. The song was designed to mimic the grand fight songs of the Ivy League and Big Ten. It worked. Within a few seasons, the song was as synonymous with Washington as the monuments themselves.
Why the Lyrics Changed (and Why It Matters)
If you look up the original 1937 lyrics, you might be shocked. They weren't just about football. They were written in a way that leaned heavily into caricatures that were common in the 1930s but grew increasingly uncomfortable as the decades passed. We’re talking about phrases like "scalp 'em" and "swamp 'em," which were later scrubbed or altered to focus more on the game of football itself.
By the time the 1960s rolled around, the world was changing.
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Washington was the last NFL team to integrate. Marshall was famously resistant to signing Black players until the Kennedy administration basically gave him an ultimatum: integrate or lose the lease on the new D.C. Stadium (later RFK). This period of history is where the song starts to take on a dual identity. For the fans in the stands, it was about team pride. For those watching from the outside, it was becoming a symbol of a team—and an owner—that was out of step with progress.
The most famous version of the lyrics, the one most people remember from the Joe Gibbs era in the 1980s, was actually a sanitized version of Griffith’s original poem. It focused on "Braves on the warpath" and "Fight for old D.C."
The Sound of the Glory Days
Ask any fan who lived through the 80s about Hail to the Redskins and they won't talk about politics. They'll talk about John Riggins. They'll talk about "The Fun Bunch" and Doug Williams making history in Super Bowl XXII.
In those years, the song was a weapon.
When the band struck up those first notes after a touchdown, the atmosphere in RFK was suffocating for visiting teams. The stadium was built on a series of ramps and the stands actually bounced. It was loud. It was rhythmic. The song provided the heartbeat for a dynasty that won three Super Bowls under Gibbs. You can’t tell the story of the NFL’s growth into a multibillion-dollar behemoth without acknowledging how these local traditions—these "civic hymns"—bonded a city to its team.
It wasn't just played at the stadium. It was played at weddings. It was played at funerals. It was the unofficial anthem of the District.
The Breaking Point and the 2020 Rebrand
Nothing lasts forever, especially when it's built on a foundation that a large portion of the population finds offensive. For years, activists like Suzan Shown Harjo led the charge to change the name and the song. The team resisted for decades. Dan Snyder, the owner who succeeded the Marshall and Cooke eras, famously told USA Today in 2013, "We'll never change the name. It's that simple. NEVER—you can use caps."
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He was wrong.
Pressure from major sponsors like FedEx and Nike, combined with the massive social justice movements of 2020, finally forced the hand of the front office. When the "Redskins" name was retired, the song went with it.
Kinda.
The melody didn't disappear instantly. For a while, the band played a modified version without lyrics. But it felt hollow. You can't have a fight song when the core word of that song is no longer allowed to be spoken. When the team eventually became the Washington Commanders, they introduced "Hail to the Commanders."
It’s the same basic tune. Mostly.
The rhythm was tweaked, and the lyrics were rewritten to fit the new three-syllable name. But if you walk through the parking lots at Northwest Stadium today, you'll still hear the old version. Fans have long memories. Some refuse to sing the new words, while others have embraced the change as a necessary step into a more inclusive future. It's a weird, lingering tension that defines the current state of D.C. sports culture.
A Technical Look at the Music
Musically, the song is a standard 2/4 march. It’s meant to be played at a brisk tempo, usually around 120 beats per minute. That’s the "walking pace" of a military march, which is why it feels so driving and energetic.
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If you listen closely to the instrumentation, it’s heavy on the trombones and trumpets. It’s designed to cut through the roar of a crowd. It’s not complex music. It’s basically a series of rising fourths and fifths that resolve in a satisfying way. That simplicity is exactly why it stuck. You don't need to be a singer to belt out "HTTR." You just need to be loud.
What Most People Get Wrong
One of the biggest misconceptions is that the song was universally loved in D.C. until "cancel culture" showed up. That’s just not true.
Protests against the name and the lyrics go back to the 1960s. Even local radio stations occasionally debated whether the song should be played. The change wasn't a sudden whim; it was the culmination of fifty years of friction.
Another myth? That the song is banned. You can still find it on Spotify. You can still buy the old vinyl records. The NFL didn't "erase" it; the team just stopped using it as their official brand. There is a difference between a historical artifact and a current marketing tool.
The Legacy of a Fight Song
So, where does that leave Hail to the Redskins in 2026?
It’s in a sort of cultural purgatory. It is a piece of sports history that is both cherished and radioactive. For the older generation, it represents the greatest moments of their lives—sitting with their dads in the upper deck, watching the "Hogs" dominate the line of scrimmage. For younger fans, it’s a relic of an era they’d rather move past.
The song taught us something about the power of music in sports. It showed how a simple melody can unify a disparate group of people, creating a shared identity that transcends politics, race, and class—even if the song itself eventually becomes the focal point of those very same divisions.
Actionable Steps for Fans and Historians
If you're interested in the history of the team or the song, don't just take the snippets you see on social media as gospel.
- Visit the Library of Congress: They hold original copyright records and early recordings of the band. It’s a fascinating look at how the song was marketed in the 1940s.
- Listen to the "Marching Band" versions: To appreciate the music without the lyrical baggage, look for the purely instrumental recordings from the 1950s. The brass arrangements are genuinely impressive.
- Check out the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian: They have documented the long history of the "Native imagery in sports" debate, which provides essential context on why the song was eventually retired.
- Compare the versions: If you're a musician, look at the sheet music for "Hail to the Redskins" versus "Hail to the Commanders." Note how the phrasing was altered to accommodate the extra syllables. It’s a great lesson in how prosody works in songwriting.
The era of the original song is over, but its impact on the culture of the NFL is permanent. Whether you hum it under your breath or celebrate its retirement, you can't deny that it was one of the most effective pieces of branding in American history.