The old home town looks the same a s I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa;
Down t he ro ad I look and th ere runs Mary,
hair of go ld and li ps like c herrie s,
it's good to touch the green, green grass of home .
Yes, t hey'll a ll come to m eet me arms a-r eaching, smiling sweetly;
It's g ood to touch the g reen, green g rass o f hom e.
The old house is still standing, though the paint is cracked and dry,
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on;
Down t he la ne I walk and with my sweet Mary,
hair of go ld an lip s like cher ries
it's g ood to touch the g reen, green g rass o f hom e.
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 and arm we'll walk at daybreak - again I'll touch the green, green
grass of home
Yes, t hey'll a ll come to s ee me in the s hade of that old oak tr ee;
As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of ho me.