The old hometown 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
the green, green grass of home
The old house is still standing
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree
Down the lane, I walk with my sweet Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
the green, green grass of home
Then I awake and look around me
At four grey walls that surround me
And I realize, yes, I was only dreaming
and there's a sad, old padre
On and on, we'll walk at daybreak
Again, I'll touch the green, green grass
