Oh, say, can you see, by the light of the torches,

What so passioantly we fight at the twilight's last gleaming,

Whose bright blood and deep scars, thro' the perilous fight,

O'er the bodies we watched, were still silently screamaing.

And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof trough the night, that their flag weas still there.

Oh, say, does that blood soaked banner yet wave

O'er the land of the oppressed and home of the opressors?