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
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isn't, it isn't even spring?

I'm starry eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isn't even, it isn't even spring?

I keep wishing I were somewhere else
Walking down a strange new street
And hearing words that I have never never heard
From a man I've yet to meet

I keep wishing I were somewhere else
Walking down a strange new street
And hearing words that I have never never heard
From a man I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin anywhere on the wing

But I feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
Oh, it might as well be
It might as well be spring