If love is sweet and doth not decay ,
as your eyes turn to dew at the end of the day .


And the sweet lemon blossom is still in your hair
as the primrose in bloom ,
at appleberry fair . so perfect their apples all juicy and ripe ,
as you ruffle your feathers ,
as the wind catches the breeze ,
in the pure sunlight .

For as love conquers all it is all that I ask ,
for a bite of your apple at Appleberry fair .

Yet time is a dream and it won’t go away ,
as the soldiers march at the end of the day .

They came with their bayonnets  to bare and to hoist ,
to take you away at the sound of my voice.

And all I looked for in a girl so rare ,
was a taste of your apple ,
at Appleberry fair