She looks on that moon from our own cottage door,
Through woodbines whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There’s no place like home.
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain,
Oh, give me my lowly, thatch’d cottage again;
The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,
Give me them, with the peace of mind, dearer than all.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There’s no place like home.