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Your master's heel is
in your flank,
Maryland, my Maryland.
I hear his restless
saber clank,
Maryland, my Maryland.
He'll ride you hard
and you may thank
Your stars, if not
left lean and lank,
Without the rations
due your rank,
Maryland, my Maryland.
I hear your old
familiar neigh,
Maryland, my Maryland.
Asking for your corn
and hay,
Maryland, my Maryland.
But you must wait
till break of day,
And Bob will then
your call obey,
And make you look so
sleek and gay,
Maryland, my Maryland.
I feel secure upon
your back,
Maryland, my Maryland.
When cannon roar and
rifles crack,
Maryland, my Maryland.
You bore me o'er the
Po-to-mac,
You circumvented
Little Mac,
Oh, may I never know
your lack,
Maryland, my
Maryland.
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