| Back home again in Indiana
|
| And it seems that I can see
|
| The gleamin' candlelight
|
| Atill shinin' bright
|
| Through the sycamores for me
|
| The new mown hay sends all its fragrance
|
| From the fields I used to roam
|
| When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash
|
| Then I long for my Indiana home
|
| Oh, I have always been a wanderer
|
| Over land and sea
|
| Yet a moonbeam on the water
|
| Casts a spell o’er me;
|
| A vision fair I see
|
| Again I long to be;
|
| Back home again in Indiana
|
| And it seems that I can see
|
| The gleamin' candlelight
|
| Atill shinin' bright
|
| Through the sycamores for me
|
| The new mown hay sends all its fragrance
|
| From the fields I used to roam
|
| When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash
|
| Then I long for my Indiana home
|
| Indiana home |