I Wish My Baby Was Born
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
Written by: JAY STUART FARRAR, JEFF TWEEDY, JEFFREY SCOTT TWEEDY
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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