Mid Pleasures and palaces though I may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home.
Home! Sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
An exile from home, spendor dazzles in vain,
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again;
The birds singing gaily, that come at my call;
Give me them, with that peace of mind, dearer than all.
To thee, I'll return, overburdened with care,
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there.
No more from that cottage again will I roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel like my mother now thinks of her child.
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door,
Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
