typed from what passes for memory...from an old Jean Redpath record I am too lazy to look up right now

"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 apples grow on an orange tree."

Chorus:
Love is a teasing and love is pleasing
and love is a treasure(or jewel) when first it's new
but as it grows older then love grows colder
and fades away like the morning dew

"I wish, I wish, that my babe were born
And sitting on my mother's knee
And I, poor girl, were dead and gone
Green grass growing over me."

cho.

"When my apron did hang low
You followed after, through wind and snow,
But now that my apron is to my chin,
You pass my door..(gate?) but you wont come in"

cho: