Words: Margaret Middleton
Music: "The Green, Green Grass of Home"
Will the tarbird sing the same when I come back home again?
Will the clan come out to bear a soldier escort?
Down the road I'll see, in sunset glowing,
Silhouettes of rooftrees growing.
And again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, the rooftrees are still standing, reaching proudly for the sky,
And it seems that I can hear their whispered welcome
As down the road I move, they tower o'er me.
Ghosts of clansmen gone before me;
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
But now I wake and look around at this battle-ravaged ground.
And I see the shape of Death that stands before me.
Yes, I know: I fell my life's blood flowing;
I'll die here, and not be knowing.
If again I touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to greet me,
In the shade of the whispering rooftrees,
When they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.
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