A song to the Maryland Society from 1862.
Words by Jas. R. Randall.
Music by Edward O. Eaton.
The sheet music:
Accompaniment by James Pitt-Payne:
Lyrics
- By blue Pataps co’s billowy dash
The tyrant’s war-shout comes
Along with the cymbals’ fitful clash
And the growl of his sullen drums
We hear it, we heed it, with vengeful thrills
And we shall not forgive or forget
There’s faith in the streams
There’s hope in the hills
There’s life in the old land yet
There’s faith in the streams
There’s hope in the hills
There’s life in the old land yet
- Minions! we sleep, but we are not dead
We are crushed, we are scourged, we are scarred
We croueth ’tis to welcome the triumph tread
Of the peerless Beauregard
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 yet - 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 poignard 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 throbeth in silent veins
‘Tis vocal without noise
It gushed o’er Manassa’s 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
Sung here by Vancha March: