| I wrote my mother, I wrote my father
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| And now I’m writing you too
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| I’m sure of mother, I’m sure of father
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| And now I want to be sure of you
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| Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
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| Anyone else but me, anyone else but me, NO NO NO!
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| Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
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| Till I come marching home
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| Don’t go walking down lovers' lane with anyone else but me
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| Anyone else but me, anyone else but me
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| Don’t go walking down lovers' lane with anyone else but me
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| Till I come marching home
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| I just got word from a guy who heard
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| From the guy next door to me
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| That a girl he met just loves to pet
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| And it fits you to a «T»
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| So don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
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| Till I come marching home
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| (Last time, last two lines)
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| Then we’ll go arm in arm, and
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| Sit down under the apple tree
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| Baby, just you and me
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| When I come marching home |