The old hometown looks the same as a step down from the train.
There to meet me is my mama and papa.
And 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've all come to meet me,
arms are reached, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing,
though the past is gone.
The paint is cracked and dry.
There's that old oak tree that I used to play on.
And down 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 home.
And I awake and look around me
at these four gray walls that surround me.
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre.
Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak.
When again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
They'll all come to see me.
In the shade of that old oak tree as they lay me
Neat the green, green grass of home.