Air—“My Maryland.”

By the Cross upon our banner—glory of our Southern sky—
Swear we now, a band of brothers, free to live, or free to die!
Northrons! by the rights denied, listen to our solemn vow—
Here we swear, as freemen, never to your galling yoke to bow!

By our brave ones lost in battle, best and noblest of our land,
Fighting with your Northern hirelings, face to face and hand to hand;
By a sacrifice so priceless, by the spirits of the slain—
Swear we now, our Southern heroes shall not thus have died in vain.

Wide and deep the breach between us—rent by hatred’s poisoned darts,
And ye cannot now cement it with the blood of Southern hearts!
Streams of gore that gulf shall widen, running strong and deep and red,
Severing you from us forever, while there is a drop to shed.

Think you we will brook the insults of your fierce and ruffian chief,
Heaped upon our dark-eyed daughters stricken down and pale with grief!
Think you while astounded nations curse your malice, we will bear
Foulest wrong? with God to call on—arms to do—and hearts to dare!

When we prayed in peace to leave you, answering came a battle cry;
Then we swore that oath which freemen never swear who fear to die!
Northrons, come! and you shall find us heart to heart and hand to hand,
Shouting to the God of Battles, Freedom and our native land!