“Green, Green Grass of Home” is one of those songs that feels like a heartfelt conversation, like a letter someone might write when they’re far from where they truly belong. Originally recorded in the 1960s, it has this unique way of blending nostalgia with melancholy. When you hear it, you’re drawn into a story that’s simple on the surface—just a man returning to his hometown—but as the verses unfold, you realize there’s so much more going on. The twist at the end, where you find out he’s actually on death row and only dreaming of home, hits hard. It’s a beautiful, bittersweet reminder of how much comfort and longing we tie to the places we love, even in the hardest of times.
The song’s beauty lies in its storytelling, where every detail—from the old oak tree to the beloved faces of family and friends—feels vivid and alive. No wonder artists like Tom Jones, Elvis Presley, and even Johnny Cash felt drawn to cover it. Each rendition brings a different shade of heartache and warmth, but the core message remains: the power of memory, the pull of “home,” and the way we hold onto those places even when life is far from perfect.
Listening to “Green, Green Grass of Home” is like looking through a window to a simpler time, yet it’s a song that resonates with anyone who’s ever missed home, or held tight to memories of it. It’s for those moments when you find yourself lost in thought, wandering back to the places and people that made you who you are
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Lyrics
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home
The old home town looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mamma and pappa
And 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
And down the lane I walk with my why sweet 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
Then I awake, and look around
At the grey walls that surround
And I realize that I was o-only dreaming
For there’s a guard and a there’s a sad old padre
Arm 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