I Wish, I Wish
I wish, I wish, but it's all in vain,
I wish I were a maid again;
But a maid again I never shall be
Till apples grow on an orange tree.
I wish my baby it was born,
And smiling on its papa's knee,
And I to be in yon churchyard,
With long green grass growing over me.
When my apron-strings hung low,
He followed me through frost and snow,
But now my apron's to my chin,
He passes by and says nothing.
Oh grief, oh grief, I'll tell you why -
That girl has more gold than I;
More gold than I and beauty and fame,
But she will come like me again.
From the Penguin Book Of English Folk Songs,
Ed Pellow's rendition of the tune of I Wish, I Wish can be found here.
Sung by Mrs C. Costello, Birmingham (M.S. and P.S.-S.1951)