| G | G7 | C | G | |
| The old home | town looks the | same as I | stepped down from the | train |
| G | D | |
| And there to | meet me is my Mama and my | Papa |
| G | G7 | |
| Down the | road I look and | there runs Mary |
| C | G | |
| Hair of gold and lips like | cherries |
| G | D7 | G | |
| Its | good to touch the | green green grass of | home |
| The old house is still standing though the paint is cracked and dry |
| And theres 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 |
| Its good to touch the green green grass of home |
| G | G7 | |
| Yes they'll | all come to see | me |
| C | |
| Arms | reaching smiling sweetly |
| G | D7 | G | |
| Its | good to touch the | green green grass of | home |
| Then I awake and look around me to the cold gray walls that surround me |
| And then I realize I was only dreaming |
| For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre |
| Arm in arm I walk at daybreak |
| Again I'll touch touch green green grass of home |
| G | G7 | |
| Yes they'll | all come to see | me |
| C | |
| In the | shade of the old oak tree |
| G | D7 | C | G | |
| As they | lay me neath the | green green grass of | home |