The version on my Jean Redpath record goes like this (it's slightly different from the version posted earlier, and I prefer this version: I wish, I wish, though I wish in vain, I wish I were a maid again; But a maid again I will never be Till oranges grow on an apple tree. CHORUS: For love is a teasing and love is pleasing Like a jewel when first it's new; But as it grows older, love grows colder, And fades away like the morning dew. When my apron, it hung low, My true love would follow through wind and snow; But now that my apron is to my knee He cares no more what becomes of me. CHORUS I wish, I wish that my babe were born And dangling on my mother's knee And I, poor girl, were dead and gone With the long green grass growing over me. CHORUS
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