A woman came carrying nine apples of gold 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 branches 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 Hear how the music it heals Hear how the music it heals Hear how the music it heals Hear how the music it heals