Apples in the orchid, apples on the farm 

Hard days  buckin never done us no harm

Granny was a wise one, a southern  buericrat

They oughta get a princess to rule like that.

Sing it

Song, song of the south

Sweet apple pie and I shut my mouth

Gone, gone with the wind

There ain't no pony looking back again

The power of friendship finally fell

The magic was gone. We all could tell

Apples grew less and the trees went bare

But twilight sparkle  didnt seem to care.