Once I was a sentimental thing;
threw my heart away each spring.
Now a spring romance
hasn't got a chance.
Promised my first dance to winter.
All I've got to show's a splinter
for my little fling.
Spring this year has got me feeling
like a horse that never left the post.
I lie in my room
staring up at the ceiling.
Spring can really hang you up the most.
Morning's kiss wakes trees and flowers,
and to them I'd like to drink a toast.
But I walk in the park
just to k** the lonely hours.
Spring can really hang you up the most.
All afternoon the birds twitter-twitt.
I know the tune. This is love, this is it.
Heard it before
and don't I know the score.
And I've decided that spring is a bore.
Love seems sure around the new year.
Now it's April. Love is just a ghost.
Spring arrived on time,
only what became of you, dear?
Spring can really hang you up the most.
Spring can really hang you up the most.
Love came my way. I thought it would last.
We had our day, now it's all in the past.
Spring came along, a season of song,
full of sweet promise
but something went wrong.
Doctors once prescribed a tonic.
Sulfur and mola**es was the dose.
Didn't help one bit.
My condition must be chronic.
Spring can really hang you up the most.
All alone, the party is over.
Old man winter was a gracious host.
But when you keep praying
for snow to hide the clover,
spring can really hang you up the most.