Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, 
Which seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. 
I gaze on the moon 
As I tread the drear wild, 
And feel that my mother 
Now thinks of her child; 
As she looks at that moon 
From our own cottage door, 
Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance 
Shall cheer me no more. 
(Music)
As she looks at that moon 
From our own cottage door, 
Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance 
Shall cheer me no more. 
Home, home, sweet sweet home, 
Be it ever so humble, 
There's no place like home.