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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. Aus Songtexte Mania