Page:Maryland, My Maryland and There's Life in the Old Land Yet (1862).djvu/6

 :Then woe to your vile, polluting horde When the Southern braves are met—
 * There’s faith in the victor’s stainless sword—

There’s Life in the Old Land vet!


 * Bigots! ye quell not the valiant mind

With the clank of an iron chain;
 * The Spirit of Freedom sings in the wind

O’er Merryman, Thomas and Kane!
 * And we—though we smite not—are not thralls,

We are piling a gory debt,
 * While down by McHenry’s dungeon walls

There’s Life in the Old Land yet!


 * Our women have hung their harps away,

And they scowl on your brutal bands,
 * While the nimble poinard dares the day

In their dear, defiant hands!
 * They will strip their tresses to string our bows

Ere the Northern sun is set—
 * There’s faith in their unrelenting woes,

There’s Life in the Old Land yet!


 * There’s life, though it throbbeth in silent veins,

Tis vocal without noise—
 * It gushed o’er Manassas’ solemn plains

From the blood of the Maryland boys!
 * That blood shall cry aloud, and rise

With an everlasting threat—
 * By the death of the brave, by the God in the skies,

There’s Life in the Old Land yet!