Uploaded July 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
From “The Spring Chicken,” 1906
Words by M. E. Rourke
Music by Richard Carle
Sung by Laurence Rubenstein
Accompaniment by James Pitt-Payne
Get the sheet music and accompaniment here:
sheetmusicsinger.com/a-lemon-in-the-garden-of-love-1906
Lyrics
To my fond imagination,
Ev’ry woman in creation
Was a peach in the garden of love.
In its pleasant shade I wandered
O’er my choice I slowly pondered,
As I gazed at the branches above.
Filled with fatal indecision,
I was dazzled by the vision,
All the peaches were so temptingly divine,
And my eyesight was affected,
For since then I have suspected,
That I couldn’t see when I picked mine.
Refrain
Will someone kindly tell me,
Will someone answer why?
To me it is a riddle
And it will be till I die.
A million peaches round me,
Yet I would like to know,
Why I picked a lemon in the garden of love
Where they say only peaches grow.
Verse2
Though no man perfection reaches,
In the art of picking peaches,
Had I started to practice when young,
Now I’d not be always meeting
Lemon flavors while I’m eating,
And this song might have never been sung.
Nor would I be sitting daily,
Trying hard to chatter gaily,
With a better half of forty lemon power,
One I cannot care a bit for,
For the only thing she’s fit for,
It to make another lemon sour.
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From “The Spring Chicken,” 1906
Words by M. E. Rourke
Music by Richard Carle
Sung by Laurence Rubenstein
Accompaniment by James Pitt-Payne
Get the sheet music and accompaniment here:
sheetmusicsinger.com/a-lemon-in-the-garden-of-love-1906
Lyrics
To my fond imagination,
Ev’ry woman in creation
Was a peach in the garden of love.
In its pleasant shade I wandered
O’er my choice I slowly pondered,
As I gazed at the branches above.
Filled with fatal indecision,
I was dazzled by the vision,
All the peaches were so temptingly divine,
And my eyesight was affected,
For since then I have suspected,
That I couldn’t see when I picked mine.
Refrain
Will someone kindly tell me,
Will someone answer why?
To me it is a riddle
And it will be till I die.
A million peaches round me,
Yet I would like to know,
Why I picked a lemon in the garden of love
Where they say only peaches grow.
Verse2
Though no man perfection reaches,
In the art of picking peaches,
Had I started to practice when young,
Now I’d not be always meeting
Lemon flavors while I’m eating,
And this song might have never been sung.
Nor would I be sitting daily,
Trying hard to chatter gaily,
With a better half of forty lemon power,
One I cannot care a bit for,
For the only thing she’s fit for,
It to make another lemon sour.
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