i'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm i'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string i'd say that i had spring fever but i know it isn't spring i am starry eyed and vaugely discontented like a nightingale without a song to sing why should i have spring fever when it isn't even spring i keep wishing i were somewhere else walking down a strange new street hearing words that i have never heard from a man i've yet to meet i'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams i'm as gidddy as a baby on a swing i haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud or a robin on the wind but i feel so gay in a melancholy way that it might as well be spring it might as well be spring
i'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm i'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string i'd say that i had spring fever but i know it isn't spring i am starry eyed and vaugely discontented like a nightingale without a song to sing why should i have spring fever when it isn't even spring i keep wishing i were somewhere else walking down a strange new street hearing words that i have never heard from a man i've yet to meet i'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams i'm as gidddy as a baby on a swing i haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud or a robin on the wind but i feel so gay in a melancholy way that it might as well be spring it might as well be spring
