Green, green grass of hometom jonesthe old home town looks the same,as i step down from the train,and there to greet me are my mamma and my poppa;down the road i look, and there runs mary,hair of gold, lips like cherries,it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.chorus:yes, they'll all come to meet me,arms a-reachin', smilin' sweetly,it's good to touch the green, green grass of home,the old house is still standin,'though the paint is cracked and dry,and there's that old oak tree,that i used to play in.down the lane i'll walk with my sweet mary,hair of gold and lips like cherries,it's good to touch the green, green grass of home.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 a sad old padre,arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak,and at last i'll touch the green green grass of home.(chorus)