LITTLE GREEN APPLES by ROGER MILLER
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And I wake up in the morning
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with my hair down in my eyes
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and she says "Hi." - -
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And I stumble to the breakfast table
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while the kids are going off to school
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"Goodbye." - -
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And she reaches out and takes my hand
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squeezes it says "How you feelin Hon?"
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And I look across at smiling lips
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that warm my heart and see my morning sun.
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And if that's not loving me,
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then all I've got to say;
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God didn't make Little Green Apples
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in the summertime.
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Disneyland and Mother Goose is no nursery rhyme.
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God didn't make Little Green Apples
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in the summertime.
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I think about her face a glow to ease my mind
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Sometimes I call her up at home knowing she's busy
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And ask if she could get away and meet me
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and grab a bit to eat.