A woman came carrying nine apples of gold
Nine apples of gold on a bough
She sang her tune and springtime in
How sweetly the apples sing
How sweetly the apples sing

A woman came carrying a tune on the wind
That dandled upon a bough
The branch did shake and music make
How sweetly the apples sing
How sweetly the apples sing

Hear how the music it heals
Hear how the music it heals

A woman came carrying a basket of bread
A basket of food was her load
She put the bread in the hands of the hungry and tired
How sweetly the apples sing
How sweetly the apples sing

A woman came carrying a heartful of love
Loving with all of her might
Her pilgrim soul it burned so bright
How sweetly the apples sing
How sweetly the apples sing

Hear how the music it heals
Hear how the music it heals

My apple tree, my brightness
My apple tree a stór
My apple tree, my brightness
My apple tree a stór

Hear how the music it heals
Hear how the music it heals