The gate, the wait and the path
the sun, the moon, the stars
The land of midsummer's night.


She wears the sun and summer rain in her hair
And fairs the sky and smiling bright in those eyes

If there's a land where she will plant an apple tree
All thieves they come to steal a bite
But not me, no not me

I'll wait until she bakes a pie for me to snatch again

'Cause she knows that


I, I, I, I'm an apple thief (x4)