The old home town looks the same,
|
As I step down from the train,
|
And there to meet me is my mama and my papa.
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Down the road I look, and there comes Mary,
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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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The old house is still standing,
|
Though the paint is cracked and dry,
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And there's the old oak tree that I used to play on.
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Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary,
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Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
|
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
|
|
Yes, they'll all come to see me,
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Arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
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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,
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At the four gray walls that surround me,
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And I realize that I was only dreaming.
|
For there's a guard, and there's a sad old padre,
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Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak.
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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 the old oak tree,
|
As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.
|
|
-----------------
|
Green, Green Grass Of Home
|
| Johnny Cash |
