There’s a place that will ne’er be forgotten by me,
’Tis the cottage wherein I was born,
And though years have rolled on, yet in fancy I see
It there ’mid the tall waving corn.
’Twas humble, ’twas lowly, but ah! it contained
My nearest and dearest on earth,
And where’er I go, I am longing to be
Once more in the home of my birth.
Chorus.—Back to the old home again,
Down in the country lane,