O, Tannenbaum!  O, Tannenbaum, wie tru sind deine Blatter! 
          Da gruenst nicht nur zur Sommerseit,
          Nein, auch in Winter, when es Schneit, etc.

which Longfellow has finely translated,

O, hemlock tree!  O, hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches! 
Green not alone in Summer time,
But in the Winter’s float and rime. 
O, hemlock tree O, hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches. etc.

The Rebel version ran: 

          Maryland.

The despot’s heel is on thy shore,
          Maryland! 
His touch is at thy temple door,
          Maryland! 
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle queen of yore,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

Hark to the wand’ring son’s appeal,
          Maryland! 
My mother State, to thee I kneel,
          Maryland! 
For life and death, for woe and weal,
Thy peerless chivalry reveal,
And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

Thou wilt not cower in the duet,
          Maryland! 
Thy beaming sword shall never rust
          Maryland! 
Remember Carroll’s sacred trust,
Remember Howard’s warlike thrust—­
And all thy slumberers with the just,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

Come! ’tis the red dawn of the day,
          Maryland! 
Come! with thy panoplied array,
          Maryland! 
With Ringgold’s spirit for the fray,
With Watson’s blood at Monterey,
With fearless Lowe and dashing May,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

Comet for thy shield is bright and strong,
          Maryland! 
Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong,
          Maryland! 
Come! to thins own heroic throng,
That stalks with Liberty along,
And give a new Key to thy song,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

Dear Mother! burst the tyrant’s chain,
          Maryland! 
Virginia should not call in vain,
          Maryland! 
She meets her sisters on the plain—­
‘Sic semper’ ’tis the proud refrain,
That baffles millions back amain,
          Maryland! 
Arise, in majesty again,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

I see the blush upon thy cheek,
          Maryland! 
But thou wast ever bravely meek,
          Maryland! 
But lo! there surges forth a shriek
From hill to hill, from creek to creek—­
Potomac calls to Chesapeake,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll. 
          Maryland! 
Thou wilt not crook to his control,
          Maryland! 
Better the fire upon thee roll,
Better the blade, the shot, the bowl,
Than crucifixion of the soul,
Maryland!  My Maryland!

I hear the distant Thunder hem,
          Maryland! 
The Old Line’s bugle, fife, and drum. 
          Maryland! 
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb—­
Hnzza! she spurns the Northern scum! 
She breathes—­she burns! she’ll come! she’ll come! 
Maryland!  My Maryland!