|
The old home town looks the same as I step down from the train, |
|
And there meet me is my Mama and my Papa. |
|
Down the road I look and there runs Mary hair of gold and lips like cherries. |
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home. |
|
The old house is still standing tho' the paint is cracked and dry, |
|
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on. |
|
Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries. |
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home. |
|
Yes, they'll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly. |
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home. |
|
Then I awake and look around me, to the four grey wall that surround me |
|
And then I realize that I was only dreaming. |
|
There's a guard and sad old padre |
|
Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak. |
|
Again I touch the green, green grass of home. |
|
Yes, they'll all meet together in the shade of that old oak tree |
|
As we neath indeed the green, green grass of home. |