“I made my way to the green, green grass of home,

a place where I once used to roam.

The homestead is still there – so weather beaten and bare.

The ice house is so empty cold, no more ice will it hold.

Looking at the fields – no more crops will they yield.

The old apple trees are still there, no one seems to care.

Fences are all fallen down, scattered all over the ground.

Standing there, I wondered why I came,

 as nothing looks the same.

Standing there with a sigh, it was time to say good-bye

to the green, green grass of home.