The postman's arrived and he's brought me a letter
A handwriting shaky it's merely a scrawl
But still I can find no penmanship better
It's from an old lady who's feeble and small
It tells me that our awful dog, always hardy
Has lately been hurt in some terrible fight
I know that to you this may not be worth saying
But to me any news from home is right
From home is right
One day I'll return home
Going back while Mother's still there
"Are you coming home this year?" Mother writes
It tells of the birds that nest in the attic
Through the hole in the roof where the rain's coming from
The house where we live is no Kensington Palace
It hasn't been painted since Father's been gone
Father's been gone
One day I'll return home
Going back while Mother's still there
"Are you coming home this year?" Mother writes
"The weather's been awful this year," Mother writes
"Are you coming home this year?" Mother writes