The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
Down the road I look and there runs Mary,
a hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to see the green,
Yes, they'll all come to meet me on the region, smiling sweetly,
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, old, old tree
I wandered with my sweet Mary,
a hair of gold, lips like cherries,
it's good to touch the green,
Then I waved and looked around
at the cold gray walls that surround me
And I realized that I was only dreaming
and there's a sad old Padre
Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak
And I'll touch the green,
Of that old oak tree as they lay beneath
The green, green grass of home
That old oak tree as they lay beneath
The green, green grassland home
