My sister Padmini, out of the blue sent this clip on whatsapp to our family group. She of course knows that her three brothers love this song but perhaps did not know another side to the story which I shared with her and all the others in the family.
Before I proceed with my story let us look at the lyrics for those who do not know them.
“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 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 reaching, smiling sweetly.
It’s good to touch the green, green, grass of home.
The old house is still standing, tho’ the paint is cracked and dry,
and there’s that old oak tree that I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my 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 reaching, smiling sweetly.
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me, at the four grey walls that surround me
and I realize, yes, I was only dreaming.
For there’s a guard and there’s a sad old padre –
arm in arm we’ll walk at daybreak.
Again I 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.
This song was a favourite of mine as well as my late wife Urmeela’s. Till she one day found out that it was a song sung by a dead man. She could never listen to it again with the same enthusiasm as before she found out.
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