| The old hometown looks the same as I step down from the train
|
| And there to meet me is my mama and papa
|
| And 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 areaching 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 that I used to play on And 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 areaching smiling sweetly
|
| It’s good to touch the green green grass of home
|
| Then I awake and look around me at the cold grey 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
|
| Yes they’ll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
|
| As they lay me neath the green green grass of home |