I wish, I wish my baby was born
Sittin on her mama's knee
But you, poor girl are dead and gone
And grass is growing over thee.
Oh I'm not no saint, no I never shall be
Til the sweet apple grows on a sour apple tree
Still I hope that the day will come
When you and I will walk as one.
I wish I wish my baby was born
Sittin on her papa's knee
But you poor girl are dead and gone
And grass growing over thee.
Sittin on her mama's knee
But you, poor girl are dead and gone
And grass is growing over thee.
Oh I'm not no saint, no I never shall be
Til the sweet apple grows on a sour apple tree
Still I hope that the day will come
When you and I will walk as one.
I wish I wish my baby was born
Sittin on her papa's knee
But you poor girl are dead and gone
And grass growing over thee.