| The old home town looks 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 runs mary hair of gold and lips like cherries.
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| Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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| Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
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| Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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| The old house is still standing tho the paint is cracked and dry,
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| And theres that old oak tree I used to play on.
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| Down the lane I walk with my sweet mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries.
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| Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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| Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
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| Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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| Then I awake and look around me, at four grey wall surround me And I realize that I was only dreaming.
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| For theres a guard and theres a sad old padre —
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| Arm in arm well walk at daybreak.
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| Again I touch the green, green grass of home.
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| Yes, theyll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
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| As they lay me neath the green, green grass of home |