my sweet DoraleeYou don't know what you mean to meI

American as apple pie, Mom and homemade jamAs proud

had to think of a way to surviveSince you

the trumpet of the Lord shall sound and time

of your fellow manLend him a helping handPut a

We got too much of a good thing goingWe got too

Hey, maybe I'll dye my hairMaybe I'll move somewhereMaybe I'll get

York city ain't no kind of placeFor a country

Being born was the worst and the first mistake I ever

been one of those daysThat reminded me in many

lived by the apple orchard in this little old

I would go through hell and high watersFor you any old

upon a memory I kissed lips as sweet as

on Music RowDown on Music RowIf you want to be

Darling you know, you know I love you like I love

Porter Wagoner & Dolly get ahead somedayWe'll get ahead

Midnight, getting’ uptight, where are you?You said you’d meet me, now

here, boy (Woah, baby)Girlfriend, check it out (Hey, hey, hey,

Dolly mm-hmmMm-hmm, 1: Dolly a lady who's

my hand and run with me out of the