Claude Putman, Jr.
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 mama and papa. Down the road I look and there runs Mary. air 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...
