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 have spring fever But I know it isn't spring Oh I am as 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 spring I keep wishing I were somewhere else Wandering down a strange new street Hearing words I have never never heard From a man I've yet to meet I am 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 or a bluebird 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 La da da da da da