(Bobby Russell)
|
And I wake up in the mornin'
|
With my hair down in my eyes and she says "Hi"
|
And I stumble to the breakfast table
|
While the kids are goin' off to school…goodbye
|
And she reaches out 'n' takes my hand
|
And squeezes it 'n' says "How ya feelin', hon?"
|
And I look across at smilin' lips
|
That warm my heart and see my mornin' sun
|
|
And if that's not lovin' me
|
Then all I've got to say
|
God didn't make little green apples
|
And it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summertime
|
And there's no such thing as Doctor Seuss
|
Or Disneyland, and Mother Goose, no nursery rhyme
|
God didn't make little green apples
|
And it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summertime
|
And when my self is feelin' low
|
I think about her face aglow and ease my mind
|
|
Sometimes I call her up at home knowin' she's busy
|
And ask her if she could get away and meet me
|
And maybe we could grab a bite to eat
|
And she drops what she's doin' and she hurries down to meet me
|
And I'm always late
|
But she sits waitin' patiently and smiles when she first sees me
|
'cause she's made that way
|
|
And if that ain't lovin' me
|
Then all I've got to say
|
God didn't make little green apples
|
And it don't snow in Minneapolis when the winter comes
|
And there's no such thing as make-believe
|
Puppy dogs, autumn leaves 'n' BB guns
|
|
[Fade]
|
|
God didn't make little green apples
|
And it don't rain in Indianapolis
|
|
-----------------
|
Little Green Apples
|
O.C. Smith |