Green, Green Grass of Home

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. Down the road I look, and there comes Mary, Hair of gold and lips like cherries. It's good to touch the green, green gra*s of home. The old house is still standing, Though the paint is cracked and dry, And there's the 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 gra*s of home. Yes, they'll all come to see me, Arms reaching, smiling sweetly. It's good to touch the green, green gra*s of home. 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 in arm, we'll walk at daybreak. Again, I'll touch the green, green gra*s of home. Yes, they'll all come to see me In the shade of the old oak tree, As they lay me 'neath the green, green gra*s of home.