The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
There to meet me is my
mama and my papa
Down the lane I look and there runs Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries,
It's good to touch the green,
green grass of home.
The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry.
There's that old oak tree,
the one I used to play on
And down the lane I'd walk
with my sweet Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green,
green grass of home
And then all come to meet me,
arms are reaching, smiling sweetly, oh,
it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and I look around me
to the four gray walls that surround me
and I realize that, well, I was,
I was only dreaming.
For there's the garden,
there's that sad old potlatch
Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak
and again
I'll touch the green,
green grass of home
An d they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me
Near the green, green grass of home
As they lay me neath
the green, green grass of home