| The old home town lookes the same
|
| as I step down from the train
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| And there to meet me is my mama and papa
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| Down the road I look and there comes Mary
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| Hair of gold and lips like cherries
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| It‘s good to touch the green, green gras of home
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| Yes, they‘ll all come to meet me
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| Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
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| Oh, it’s good to touch the green, green gras of home
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| The old house is still standing,
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| tho‘ the paint is cracked and dry
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| And there’s the old oak tree that I used to play on
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| Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary
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| Hair of gold and lips like cherries
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| It‘s good to touch the green, green gras of home
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| And then I awake und look around me
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| At four grey walls that surround me
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| And then I realize, that I was only dreaming
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| For there‘s stands the guard and a sad old padre
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| Arm in arm we’ll walk till daybreak
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| It’s good to touch the green, green gras of home
|
| Yes, they‘ll all come to meet me
|
| Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
|
| Oh, it‘s good to touch the green, green gras of home |