Green, Green Grass Of Home

Curly Putman / Tom Jones (1966)

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The old home town looks the same as I step down from the train,
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And there to meet me is my mama and papa.
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Down the road I look and there runs Mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries,
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It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
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Yes, they'll all come to meet me, arms a-reaching, smiling sweetly;
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It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
 
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The old house is still standing, though the paint is cracked and dry,
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And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on;
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Down the lane I walk and with my sweet Mary, hair of gold an lips like cherries;
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it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
 
spoken
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 and arm we'll walk at daybreak, 
Again I'll touch the green, green grass of home. 
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Yes, they'll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree;
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As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.


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