The March of the Maryland Men

The March Of The Maryland Men.

There’s many a son of old Maryland’s soil,
In the South—who have rushed to the field;
They have sworn to defend her, or die in her cause,
For Southerners never can yield.
Then list! to the war-trump sounding, sounding,
Deep over mountain and glen;
While light springing footsteps are trampling the soil:
’Tis the march of the Maryland men!
’Tis the march! ’Tis the march!
’Tis the march of the Maryland Men!

How proudly they march! for each patriot soul
Has wedded himself to the shrine;
They will follow their leaders and chiefs to the field,
Like their sires—the Old Maryland line.
Then list! to the war-trump sounding, sounding,
Deep over mountain and glen;
While light springing footsteps are trampling the soil;
’Tis the march of the Maryland men!
’Tis the march! ’Tis the march!
’Tis the march of the Maryland Men!

Let the battle wax warm, and the cannon’s loud roar
Wake the heavens to echo again:
Not a dastardly foe will be found in the ranks
Of the valiant Maryland men!
Then list! to war-trump sounding, sounding,
Deep over mountain and glen;
While light springing footsteps are trampling the soil:
’Tis the march of the Maryland men!
’Tis the march! ’Tis the march!
’Tis the march of the Maryland Men!

Then hurrah for the South, boys—her mountains and plains,
Her people, her freedom, her laws;
Hurrah for the thousands of Maryland men
Volunteering to die in her cause.
Then list! to the war-trump sounding, sounding,
Deep over mountain and glen;
While light springing footsteps are trampling the soil:
’Tis the march of the Maryland men!
’Tis the march! ’Tis the march!
’Tis the march of the Maryland Men!

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