Text: Debby Boone. Reflections of Rosemary. It Might As Well Be Spring.

I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm
I'm as jumpy as puppet on a string
I'd say that I had spring fever
But I know it isn't spring

I am 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 someone else
Walking down a strange new street
And hearing words that I have never heard
From a girl, I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as 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 that's 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

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

Oh, I'm as busy as 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 that's 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