The original title is "Our Village Home." The lyrics are longer, and have the line "twenty years ago." The Levy has it, with this description.

Title: Our Village Home. Ballad.
Composer, Lyricist, Arranger: Composed by Augustus Rogers. Arranged for the Piano Forte by Henry Tucker.
Publication: Albany: F.I. Ilsley, 544 Broadway, 1855.
Form of Composition: strophic
Instrumentation: piano and voice
First Line: I've wandered to the village, Tom, I've sat beneath the tree
Dedicatee: To James D. Pinckney, Esq.
Engraver, Lithographer, Artist: J.C. Pearson, N.Y.; Pearson Engr.

MIDI and lyrics are in Public Domain Music, under Tucker (1885):

To James D. Pinckney, Esq.
"Our Village Home" (1855)
Ballad.
Composed by Augustus Rogers
Arranged for the Piano Forte
by Henry Tucker [1826-1882]
[Source: 128/145@Levy]

1.
I've wandered to the village, Tom, I've sat beneath the tree,
Upon the schoolhouse playground, which sheltered you and me;
But some were there to greet me, Tom, and few were left to know,
That played with us upon the green, some twenty years ago.
The grass is just as green, Tom; bare-footed boys at play,
Were sporting just as we did then, with spirits just as gay;
But the "Master" sleeps upon the hill, which, coated o'er with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place, just twenty years ago.

2.
The old school-house is alter'd some, the benches are replaced
By new ones very like the ones our own-knives had defaced;
But the same old bricks are in the wall--the bell swings to and fro,
Its music just the same, dear Tom, 'twas twenty years ago,
The river's running just as still; the willows on its side,
Are larger than they were, Tom; the stream appears less wide--
But the grape-vine swing is ruined now, where once we played the beau
And swung our sweethearts--"pretty girls"--just twenty years ago.

3.
The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill, close by the spreading beach,
In very low--'twas once so high, that we could almost reach;
And, kneeling down to get a drink, dear Tom, I started so,
To see how much that I am changed, since twenty years ago.
Near by the spring, upon an elm, you know I cut your name,
Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom, and you did mine the same;
Some heartless wretch had pealed the bark--'twas dying, sure but slow,
Just as that one, whose name you cut, died twenty years ago.

4.
My lids have long been dry, Tom, but the tears came in my eyes;
I thought of her I loved so well--those early broken ties;
I visited the old church-yard, and took some flowers to strow
Upon the graves of those we loved, some twenty years ago.
Oh! some are in the church-yard laid--some sleep beneath the sea;
But few are left of our old class, excepting you and me;
And when our time shall come, Tom, and we are called to go,
I hope they'll lay us where we played, just TWENTY YEARS AGO.

~Masato