Back home again in Indiana And it seems that I can see The gleaming candlelight still shining bright Through the sycamores for me The new-mown hay sends all its fragrance From the fields I used to roam When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash Then I long for my Indiana home Back home again in Indiana And it seems that I can see The gleaming candlelight still shining bright Through the sycamores for me The new-mown hay sends all its fragrance From the fields I used to roam When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash Then I long for my Indiana home