GREEN GREEN GRASS OF HOME
|
(Curly Putman)
|
¡ì ¨Ï '65 Tree Publishing ¡í
|
|
The old hometown 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 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
|
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on
|
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
|
Yes they'll all come to meet me arms areaching smiling sweetly
|
It's good to touch the green green grass of home
|
Then I awake and look around me at the four grey walls that surround me
|
And I realize that I was only dreaming
|
There's a guard and there's a sad old padre arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak
|
And 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
|
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
|
|
-----------------
|
Green Green Grass Of Home
|
| Bill Anderson |
