• Reprints

Updated: February 6, 2012 9:12PM

Back home again in Indiana, And it seems that I can see. The gleaming candlelight, still burning bright, Through the sycamores for me. The new-mown hay sends all its fragrance Through the fields I used to roam. When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash, How I long for my Indiana home.

Round my Indiana homesteads wave the cornfields the woodlands clear and cool.

Oh, the moonlight’s fair tonight along the Wabash, From the fields there comes the breath of newmown hay. Through the sycamores the candle lights are gleaming, On the banks of the Wabash, far away.