Way Back Home - Bob Crosby

The roads are the dustiest

The winds are the gustiest

The gates are the rustiest

The pies are the crustiest

The songs the lustiest

The friends the trustiest

Way back home

Back home

The trees are the sappiest

The days are the nappiest

The dogs are the yappiest

The kids are the scrappiest

The jokes the snappiest

The folks the happiest

Way back home

Don't know why I left the homestead

I really must confess

I'm a weary exile

Singing my song of loneliness

The grass is the springiest

The bees are the stingiest

The birds are the wingiest

The bells are the ringiest

The hearts?

The hearts the singiest

The arms?

The arms the clingiest

Way back home

What about the sun?

The sun's the blaziest

And the fields?

Field's the daisiest

And the cows?

Cows the graziest

And the help?

The help's the laziest

The boys are the wittiest

The girls are the prettiest

Way back home

The pigs are the snootiest

The owls are the hootiest

The plants the fruitiest

Stars the shootiest

The grins the funniest

The smiles the sunniest

Way back home

Don't know why I left the homestead

I really must confess

I'm a weary exile

Singing my song of loneliness

The food is the spreadiest

The wine is the headiest

The pals are the readiest

The gals are the steadiest

The love the liveliest

The life the loveliest

Way back, way back

Way back home

No place like home, sweet home