Indiana
Ballard MacDonald, James F. Hanley
Back home again in Indiana
And it seems that I can see
The gleaming candlelight
Still shining bright
Through the sycamores for me
The new mown hay sends all its fragrance
From the fields I used to roam
When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash
Then I long for my Indiana home
Back home again in Indiana
And it seems that I can see
The gleaming candlelight
Still shining bright
Through the sycamores for me
The new mown hay sends all its fragrance
From the fields I used to roam
When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash
Then I long for my Indiana
Long for my Indiana home