Wednesday, August 25, 2010

GREEN GREEN GRASS OF HOME

Tom Jones

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.
Heir 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 reching, smilling sweetly.
It’s good to touch, the green, green grass of home.

The old house is still standing.
Tho’ the paint is cracked and dry.
And there’s that 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 grass of home.

Spoken : “ Then I awake and look around me.
At four grey walls that surrounded me.
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there’s guard and there’s sad old padre.
Arms in arm we’ll walk at daybreak.
Again I’ll touch the green, green grass of home “
Yes, they’ll all come to see me.
In the shade of that old oak tree.
As they lay me’neath…….
The green, green grass of home…

No comments:

Post a Comment