'Way down in old Kentucky,
"Where the meadow grass is blue" —
Where they count the time by heart-throbs
Beating faithfully and true —
Where the summer breeze makes music
'Mid the corn that tassels high.
Where the colors of the streamlets
Blend the colors of the sky,
Stands that little town in Mercer
Closely nestled 'mid the green —
Stands that cradle of Kentucky,
On the fairest spot e'er seen;
There I hear the robins twitter
From their nest up in the tree,
And the whistle of die redbird
All in love, is calling me.
There the voice of men and women
Sounding ever in my ears.
With a sweeter, sweeter music
Than the music of the spheres.
May I ne'er, no ne'er forget thee.
When my head is turning gray;
May the light which shines above thee,
Shine upon my latest day.
May the greenness of thy meadows
Be the greenness of that sod.
Which shall cover up my body
When its soul has gone to God.
As the Swiss heart to the mountain,
As the sailor's to the sea.
So my heart it is to Mercer,
Wheresoever I may be;
Tho' the ocean roll between us —
Tho' far, far away I roam—
Oh, my heart it is in Mercer,
For 'tis home, my sweet, sweet home.