I wish, I wish my baby was born sitting on his papa's knee
And you, poor girl, were dead and gone green grass growing over thee

I'm not no saint, nor I never shall be
'Til the sweet apple grows
From the sour apple tree
I still hope the day will come
When you and I will walk as one

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): JAY STUART FARRAR, JEFF TWEEDY, JEFFREY SCOTT TWEEDY