In mem'ry I see an old homestead rare
That was heaven on earth to me,
It was plain and so humble, yet naught can compare
With that spot where I long to be.

In a little house on a little street,
In a little town near by,
Where the roses climb o'er the garden wall
And you hear the robin's cry;
Where peace and rest make life seem blest,
When Im weary how I sigh
For that little house on a little street,
In a little town near by.

In fancy I see the old fireplace
And you, mother mine, sitting there,
As the glow from the embers enlightend your face,
When you sat in your rocking chair.