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 a-reaching, 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 oak tree that I used to play on; Down the lane I walk and with my sweet Mary, hair of gold an lips like cherries it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.      (Parlé :) 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 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.