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 even spring

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

I keep wishing I was somewhere else
Walking down a strange new street
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a man I have 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 on the wing
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
Yes, it might, might as well be spring

Oh, I keep wishing I was somewhere else
Walking down a strange new street
Hearing words that I have never never heard
From a man I have 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 on the wing
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
Yes, it might, might as well be spring