Down-trodden, despised see brave Maryland lie, The noblest of all States; Up and to ransom her let each one try, To hasten the plans of the Fates. Her land is of the greatest beauty, That e'er the eye gazed on; Fearless she roused her to her duty, Nor paused she till 'twas done
From her, her Old Line has departed, With leaders true and brave; She's been of all the truest hearted, Why suffer her to be a slave; She's waited long with murmurs deep, Aye calling on ye oft; Still traitors on her insults heap. Still lies her hope aloft.
But yet she hopes for better things, When Jeff who all commands, This wanton war to an end quick brings, With peace to our southeren lands. And when the South is free once more, Twi'll be her proudest boast, That forth the first her men did pour, To curb the invading host.
Baltimore, Nov, 18, 1861.
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