Oh ! the long green lanes of England !
They be very far away,
And it's there that I'd be walking,
'Mid the hawthorn and the may.
Where the trees are all in blossom,
And the mating birds they sing
Fit to bust their little bodies.
Out of joy because it's Spring.
I'd be courting of my true love,
She'd be in her Sunday best.
With my arm around hei shoulder
And her head upon my breast.
For the new land it's a fine land,
Where a man can get a start ;
But there's that about the old land
That will grip his very heart :
For he'll mind him o' the cowslips.
Coming up all fresh and new
In the fields of early mornings,
Where the grass is white with dew.
Oh ! it's money, money, money,
' Go and try to earn a bit ;'
And ' America's the country
For the lad as doesn't quit.'
Seems that folks go mad on money.
Well, I'll have enough some day,
But the long green lanes of England
They be Oh ! so far away !
