There's hell to pay,

When Sherry's in the saddle.

HOME! HOME!

Home! Home!

Man may roam

While the blood of life is brimming,

While the head's with glory swimming;

But, when Love and Life are over,

Bring him to the village clover,

Home! Home!

Home! Home!

Bring him home,

Where the songs of sad hearts shrive him,

Where remorse no more shall rive him,

Where the ever weeping willow

Moults to make its leaves his pillow,

Home! Home!

Home! Home!

He is home,

Where his song was ever sounding,

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