Joy Of Spring.
With its birds and its bees and its can of bock beer,
Its warmth and its sunshine so boundless and free,
Its sarsaparilla and sassafras tea.
I fancy I see, 'mid the emerald bowers,
A bevy of maidens out gathering flowers,
Until I discern that those bright fairy queens
Are filling a basket with turnip-top greens.
The wealth of the springtime now feedeth my soul
Like a hired man is fed from a full gravy bowl;
'Tis then that I love to stroll out in the glade
And bask in the willow tree's beautiful shade,
Or calmly repose on the flat of my back
And list to the mule whacker patiently whack.