The old home town 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.

Yes, they'll all come to meet me,

arms reaching, smiling sweetly.

It's good to touch

the green, green, grass of home.

The old house

is still standing,

tho' 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.

Then I awake

and look around me,

at the four grey walls

that surround me

and I realize,

yes, I was only dreaming.

For there's a guard

and there's a sad old padre -

arm in arm we'll walk

at daybreak

Again I 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.