Dennis Brown - Little Green Apples | Текст песни

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• Dennis Brown
• Little Green Apples

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Oh I wake up in the morning,
With my hair down in my eyes, she says hi.
And I stumble to the breakfast table,
While the kids are going off to school, goodbye.
She reaches out, takes my hand, squeezes it and says: "How you feelin' hon?"
And I look across at smiling lips,
That warms my heart, and see my morning sun.

And if that's not loving me, then all I've got to say:
Oh God didn't make the little green apples,
And it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summer time.
There's no such thing as Dr. Seuss,
Or Disneyland and mother goose, no nursery rhymes.
God didn't make the little green apples,
And it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summer time.
And when myself is feeling low,
I think about her face and go and ease my mind.

Sometimes, I call her up at home, knowing she's busy.
Ask her if she can get away,
Meet me and maybe we can grab a bite to eat.
She drops what she's doing,
Hurries down to meet me, and I'm always late.
She sits waiting patiently,
Smiles when she first sees me, because she's made that way.

And if that's not loving me, then all I've got to say:
God didn't make the little green apples,
And it don't snow in Minneapolis in the winter time.
And when myself is feeling low,
I think about her face and go and ease my mind.
God didn't make the little green apples,
And it don't rain in Indianapolis in the winter time.