IЂ™m as restless as a willow in a windstorm
IЂ™m as jumpy as puppet on a string
IЂ™d say that I had spring fever
But I know it isnЂ™t spring
I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
O why should I have spring fever
When it isnЂ™t even spring
I keep I were someone else
Walking down a strange new street
And hearing words that IЂ™ve never head
From a girl IЂ™ve yet to meet
IЂ™m as busy as spider spinning daydreams
Spinning spinning daydreams
IЂ™m as giggy as a baby on a swing
I havenЂ™t seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
It might as Well be Spring