The old home town looks the same as I step down from the train
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and there to meet me is my mama and papa;
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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.
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Yes, they'll all come to meet me arms a'reaching, smiling sweetly;
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It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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The old house is still standing, though the paint is cracked and dry,
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and there's that old oak tree that I used to play on;
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Down the lane I walk and with my sweet Mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries,
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it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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Then I awake and look around me at the 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 and arm we'll walk at daybreak - again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
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Yes, they'll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree;
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As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.
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Green, Green Grass of Home
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| Dean Martin |
