The robins they were singing,
as the sun was go-ing down,
The noisy little brook flowed on its way
From a cross the peaceful valley
came the churchbell's welcome sound
The evening breezes spoke of new mown hay
A youth and maid were roaming
where the maples shade the stream
The falling leaves they rustle 'neath their tread.
He paused out in the moonlight,
while he took her little hand
And drew her closer to him as he said.
While the red robin sings to his mate
I shall sing my true love, dear, to you
We shall build our own nest,
on the hill's lovely crest
and we'll make it our harbor of home.
As I sail 'cross the seas without you
All my love will be always at home
And then when I return we will be safe again
in our Harbor of Home Sweet Home.
He stands once more a watching,
where the babbling brook flowed on,
The summer days have changed to winter cold;
No song birds now are singing
all the world with snow is white:
But he is dreaming of dear days of old
He wanders to the old farm house
where the lights they brightly gleam,
As if to guide the trav'ler who may roam,
Close by the fireside where she sat
an empty chair stands now
A letter reads dear Jack, I've just gone home.