一位友人在澳洲捎來一首歌,又知她在思鄉了 The 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. 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. |