I wish, I wish my baby was born And sitting on its papa's knee And me, poor girl And me, poor girl, were dead and gone And the green grass growing o'er my feet I ain't ahead, nor never will be Till the sweet apple grows On a sour apple tree
But still I hope, But stil I hope the time will come When you and I shall be as one
I wish, I wish my love had died And sent his soul to wander free Then we might meet where ravens fly Let our poor body rest in peace
The owl, the owl Is a lonely bird It chills my heart With dread and terror That someone's blood There on his wing That someone's blood There on his feather.