About the song
Joan Baez, a towering figure in the folk music scene, often explored themes of social justice and personal reflection in her songs. However, “The Green, Green Grass of Home” is a departure from her usual repertoire, delving into a more intimate and poignant tale of longing and regret.
Originally penned by songwriter Bob Dylan, the song was released in 1965 on his album *Highway 61 Revisited*. Baez’s rendition, released a year later on her album *Joan Baez Vol. 4*, added her distinctive vocal style and emotional depth to the piece, elevating it to a timeless classic.
The song tells the story of a prisoner who is about to be executed. As he reflects on his life, he yearns to return to his childhood home, where the green grass and familiar sights once brought him joy. The contrast between his idyllic memories and his grim reality creates a powerful sense of nostalgia and melancholy.
Baez’s haunting vocals perfectly capture the prisoner’s emotional turmoil. Her voice, both fragile and resilient, conveys the character’s longing and despair. The simple, yet evocative lyrics, combined with Baez’s emotive delivery, make “The Green, Green Grass of Home” a deeply moving and thought-provoking song.
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Lyrics
The old home town looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and my papa
Down the road I look and there comes Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
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 wake and look around me
To the cold gray wall that surround me
And then I realize that I was only dreaming
There’s the guard and the sad old padre
Arm in arm we’ll walk at daybreak
Again I touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, we’ll all be together in the shade of the old oak tree
When we meet beneath the green, green grass of home