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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 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 ggg of home.
The old house is still standing tho' the paint is cracked
and dry,
and there's that old oak tree 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 ggg of home.
Yes, they'll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling
sweetly.
It's good to touch the ggg of home.
[spoken:]
Then I awake and look
around me, at four grey wall 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 touch the green, ggg of home.
Yes, they'll all come to see me in the shade of that old
oak tree
as they lay me neath the ggg of home.
. . . . .