So you're going to leave the old home, Jim
Today you're going away
You're going among the city folks to dwell
So spoke our dear old mother to her boy one summer's day
"Son, if your mind's made up that way, I bid you well"

The old home will be lonely, we'll miss you when you're gone
The birds won't sing so sweet when you're not nigh

But if you get in trouble, Jim, just write and let me know
She spoke these words and then she said goodbye

But when sickness overtakes you
And all companions shake you
And through this world you wander all alone

When friends you have not any
In your pocket, not one penny
There's a mother always waiting for you at home
Sweet home