The Swamps of Home

I come from the land of the foggy, foggy dew ooh-ooh-ooh!
Ooh-ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh-ooh!
Where walking through the meadow in the morning is like walking through glue!
The swamps of home are brushed with green and gold at break of day.
At break of day.
The swaps of home are lovely to behold from far away.
From far away.
In my soul is the beauty of the bog, in my memory the magic of the mud.
I know that blood is thicker than water but the swamps of home are thicker than blood.
Blo-o-od!
Where e'er I roam my heart grows dank and cold,
my face grows gray when shadows fall and I hear the call...
of the swamps of home.
Ah...
I hear them calling me now, calling me back, calling me Winnifred,
Winnifred, Winnifred, Winnifred, who do you think you are?
Girl of the swamp,
Winnifred, Winnifred
You've gone to far!
Maid of the marshland, give up the struggle!
Listen to the voice of the swamp;
gluggle-uggle-uggle.
gluggle-uggle-uggle.
Where e'er I roam. The whips of fate may smart, but deep down in my heart
ooh...
One thought will abide and will ne'er be forgotten,
though I search far and wide there is no land as rotten...
Rotten, rotten, rotten, Rotten, rotten, rotten, Rotten, rotten, rotten...
As the swamps of home.
The swamps of home!