The old home town looks the same
as I step down from the train
and there to meet me is my Mama and Papa
Down the road I look and there runs Mary
hair of gold and lips like cherriesIt’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they’ll all come to meet me
arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It’s good to touch the green, green, grass of homeThe old house is still standing, tho’ the paint is cracked and dry,
and there’s that old oak tree that I used to play onDown 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 homeYes, they’ll all come to meet me
arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of homeThen I awake and look around me
at the four grey walls that surround me
and I realize, yes, 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 touch the green, green grass of homeYes, 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 homeGreen, Green Grass of Home - Written by Claude Putman Jr
De jisuk - Source 31oct.2013