The Seamstresses of Baltimore
had done their Country proud.
Their Flag, upon a staff of wood,
Defied The British rounds.
Fort McHenry and her men
alone stood in the way
of a squadron of the British fleet
in good King George's pay.
All through the warm September night
We saw red rockets glare.
And when the morning sun arose
our banner was still there.
The tale might have been different
One of death, despair and blood-
One shell had hit the magazine
but it proved to be a dud.


A lawyer and a poet
on a truce ship in the Bay
gave voice to the emotions
that filled his heart that day.
So when you stand and doff your cap
and sing his song I say,
let history become memory
in a simple, subtle way.