I wrote my mother, I wrote my father
And now I'm writing you too
I'm sure of mother, I'm sure of father
And now I want to be sure
Very, very sure
Of you

Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me
No, no, no

Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
Till [bad word] marching home

Don't go walkin' down Lovers' Lane
With anyone else but me
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me
No, no, no

Don't go walkin' down Lover's Lane
With anyone else but me
Till [bad word] marching home

I just got word from a girl who heard
From the girl next door to me
The boy she met just loves to pet
And it fits you to a tee

So don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
Till [bad word] marching home

Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
(With anyone else but her)
No, no, no
Not a single sole but me
No, no, no

Don't you sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
Not till you see me
Not until you see me marchin' home
Home, home, home sweet home

Don't go walkin' down Lovers' Lane
With anyone else but me-ee
(With anyone else but her)
No, no, no

Not a single sole but me
No, no, no

Don't you go walkin' down Lover's Lane
With anyone else but me
Not till you see me
Not until you see me marchin' home
Home, home, home sweet home

Just wait till [bad word] marching home
So don't go walkin' down to Lovers' Lane
No walkin' down to Lover's Lane
Till you see me, when you see me marchin' home

Then we'll go arm in arm
And sit down under the apple tree
Baby, just you and me
When [bad word] marching home