The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and my 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.
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The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry,
And there's the 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.
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Yes, they'll all come to see me,
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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Then I awake and look around me,
At the four gray walls that surround me,
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there's a guard, and there's a sad old padre,
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak.
Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
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Yes, they'll all come to see me
In the shade of the old oak tree,
As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.
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