| |
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 runs 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 house is still standing though the
paint is cracked and dry,
and there's that old oak tree 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.
[spoken:] Then I awake and look around me,
at four grey walls 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.
Yes, they'll all come to see me in the shade
of that old oak tree
as they lay me beneath the green, green
grass of home
|
