I Think About the Home

Sometimes when I'm all by myself, I think about the home,
The place where I grew up when I was young.
I know the old folks think of me and the good times that we had.
I remember all the good old songs we sung.
(1st chorus)
Our family was a humble one but never went without.
We never had to spend no time alone.
That's why my thoughts go wandering back, to the days when I was young. Oh, I just cant help but think about the home.

Whenever Sunday rolled around, we'd head down to the shore.
We'd have a lot of fun and laugh and sing.
My mom would pack a picnic lunch and say a little prayer.
On the road, you'd always hear our voices ring.
My father never had to lay a hand to us at all.
'nor did he ever get the urge to roam.
The days I think about the most, are the days when I was small
and you know I'll always think about the home.
Yes, you know I'll always think about the home.