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 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 somewhere else
 Walking down a strange new street
 
 Hearing words that I have never heard
 >From a girl 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 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