Remember—men of Maryland,
You have a debt to pay,
A debt which years of patience
Will never wear away;
Which must be paid at last, although
Our dearest blood it cost,
A debt which shall be paid unto
The very uttermost.
We owe for confidence betrayed,
By those we trusted best,
The sword we gave them to refund,
They turned against our breast;
For spies that noted down our words.
The while they shared our bread,
For hounds that even dared disturb,
The quiet of the dead.
We owe for all the love they lied,
The wolfish hate they showed,
For all those glittering bayonets
That meet us on the road.
For black suspicion, deadlier far,
Than flash of Northern swords,
For treason threatened at our hearths.
And poison at our boards.
For many a deed of darkness done,
Beneath their “Stripes and Stars,”
For women outraged in their homes,
And fired on in the cars.
For those black tiers of cannon trained
To bear on Baltimore;—
We owe for friends in prison kept,
And Davis in his gore.
Wrongs such as these—aye—more than these,
Make up our fearful debt,
And many a gallant heart has sworn
It shall be settled yet:
Each moment near and nearer brings
That solemn reckoning day,
And when it comes—and when it comes—
Remember ——— and repay.