'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there
Which seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Through the woodbine whose fragrance shall cheer me no more
And she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Through the woodbine whose fragrance shall cheer me no more
Home, home, sweet, sweet home
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home
