|
The old home town looks the same |
|
As I step down from the train |
|
And there to meet me is my mama and papa |
|
Down the road |
|
I look and there comes |
|
Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries |
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home |
|
Yes, they'll all be there to meet me |
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Arms reaching smiling sweetly |
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home |
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The old house is still standing |
|
Though the paint is cracked and dry |
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And there's that old oak tree |
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I used to play on |
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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 |
|
The old home town looks the same |
|
As I step down from the train |
|
And there to meet me is my mama and papa |
|
Down the road |
|
I look and there comes |
|
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 |
|
In the shade of the old oak tree |
|
As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home |
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home |
