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From scourging foes and scowling woes,
That flag sprang forth in sorrow!
Wrong gave the Stripes — hope wrought the Stars--
Ah! those old grandsires able,
From pain to hallowed peace, at last,
They passed — the good, the noble,
The murdered brave — to glory!
When swarming foemen thronged our shores,
Hard pressed for food and rifles,
Our god-like sires, they fought and starved,
Nor shrunk at such mere trifles;
Enrapturedly to death they went,
And still as slaughter crowned them,
The glittering Stars, turned to the skies,
Hung proudly, grandly round them,
That flag, in battle gory.
Down many a vista'd year since then,
Enshrined in hoary honor,
Nobly with martial step hath marched
Our grand old veteran banner!
Unhallowed hands of godless wrong
Now threat that badge we cherish;
Charge! sons of old Columbia, then!
Ere that flag fall, we perish!
the Stars and Stripes for ever!
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