How they blessed the little Quaker
And her flag of stripes and stars;
’Neath its folds, the foemen scorning,
Glinted bayonets and blade,
And the breezes of the morning
Kissed the banner Betsey made.
Years have passed, but still in glory
With a pride we love to see,
Laureled with a nation’s glory
Waves the emblem of the free;