Introdução: 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 starryeyed and vaguely discontented Like a nightingale without a song to sing Oh why should I have Spring fever when it isn’t even Spring Bridge: 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