And I think with regret of the dear home I left
Of the warm hearts that sheltered me there
Oh, why was I tempted to roam?
But yet I'll return to the place of my birth
Can it be that the old house is gone?
And the place is quite lonely around
And spread their sweet scent through the glade
Take me back, let me see what is left that I knew
I know that the smiles and the forms I have seen
They'll echo our footsteps no more
Of wife and of dear ones, of whom I'm bereft
To my plot in the evergreen shade
Oh the path to our cottage, they say, has grown green
Take me back to the place where the orange trees grow
Now lie in the dark mossy ground
By the graves of my loved ones, I long for to weep
The children have played round the door
And I must face death all alone
For the old place again do I sigh?
Where the flowers from the river's green margins did grow
And among them to rest when I die
To the sweet sunny south, take me home
Where they gathered wild blossoms that grow round the path
Where the mockingbirds sing me to rest every night
Poor Massa lies buried close by
Dear friends of my childhood indeed must be few
Where the mockingbirds sing me to rest every night
Take me back to the place where my little ones sleep
Take me back to the place where I first saw the light
