It may be Easter in New England, but it sure ain't anything like spring. This beach town is freezing, it's close for the season, that season's already been. Long time gone from my home, where a graceful April wind blows. Through a valley that I know, along the Ohio, where the green and the blue grass grow. I took a wrong turn in New Hampshire, and I found myself in Vermont. Where they say a fossil leaves in the fall, well that might be all that I'd want. Well it may be so in October, but today in this springtime snow. So I wonder the leaves that bloom on the trees, where the green and the blue grass grow. So take me where the morning air and the sweet magnolia meet. Where the sky above is the color of the rolling grassy fields beneath my feet. And so it's Easter in New England, and the town square church bells ring. The same sun they sound in every hometown, they just remind me I've been. Too long gone from my home, where a graceful April wind blows. Through a valley that I know, along the Ohio, where the green and the blue grass grow. So I wonder the leaves that bloom on the trees, where the green and the blue grass grow.