Some songs don’t just tell a story—they pull you into a world so vivid, so heartbreakingly real, that you can’t help but live in it for a while. “Green, Green Grass of Home” is one of those songs. At first, it feels like a simple, sentimental homecoming—a man stepping off the train, greeted by loved ones, basking in the beauty of the place where he grew up. The imagery is warm, familiar, and comforting. But then, the illusion shatters.
In a twist that hits like a punch to the gut, we realize the entire homecoming is just a dream. The man isn’t actually returning home—he’s waking up on death row, about to face his execution. That green, green grass? He’ll only see it when they lay him to rest beneath it.
This song is a masterclass in storytelling, turning nostalgia into heartbreak in a matter of minutes. Whether it’s Porter Wagoner’s original recording, Tom Jones’ famous rendition, or any of the countless versions since, the song carries the same weight—a deep longing for home, tinged with sorrow and regret.
It’s a song that stays with you. It reminds us how much we cling to the places that made us, even in our final moments. And that’s what makes it timeless.
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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