the old home town looks the same,
as i step down from the train
and there to meet me is my mamma and my poppa
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.
down the lane i'll walk with my sweet mary,
hair of gold and lips like cherries
it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
then i awake and look around me,
at the four gray walls that surround me,
and i realize .yes i was only dreaming,
for there's a guard and 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
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