| Song | They Say It's Spring |
| Artist | Erin McKeown |
| Album | Sing You Sinners |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| When I was young, I lived in a world of dreams | |
| Of moods and myths and illusionary schemes | |
| Though now I'm much more grown up | |
| I fear that I must own up | |
| To the fact that I'm in doubt of | |
| What the modern cynics shout of | |
| They say it's spring, this feeling light as a feather | |
| They say this thing, this magic we share together | |
| Came with the weather too | |
| They say it's May, that's made me daft as a daisy | |
| It's May they say, that's made the whole world this crazy | |
| Heavenly hazy hue | |
| I'm a lark on a wing | |
| I'm the spark of a firefly's fling | |
| Yet to me this must be | |
| Something more than a seasonal thing | |
| Could it be spring, those bells that I can hear ringing? | |
| It may be spring, but when the robins stop singing | |
| You're what I'm clinging to | |
| Though they say it's spring | |
| It's you | |
| If poets sing that when a heart's sympathetic | |
| It may be spring, then poets' plights are pathetic | |
| But I'm poetic too | |
| They say it's spring, for lovers there's where the lure is | |
| That evil thing, for which September the cure is | |
| This, they are sure, is true | |
| Though I know that it's so | |
| That my fancy may turn in the spring | |
| With the right one in sight | |
| One can find a perpetual thing | |
| Did I need spring to bring the ring that you bought me? | |
| Though it was spring, that wondrous day that you caught me | |
| Darling I thought we knew | |
| That it wasn't spring | |
| ‘Twas you |
| When I was young, I lived in a world of dreams | |
| Of moods and myths and illusionary schemes | |
| Though now I' m much more grown up | |
| I fear that I must own up | |
| To the fact that I' m in doubt of | |
| What the modern cynics shout of | |
| They say it' s spring, this feeling light as a feather | |
| They say this thing, this magic we share together | |
| Came with the weather too | |
| They say it' s May, that' s made me daft as a daisy | |
| It' s May they say, that' s made the whole world this crazy | |
| Heavenly hazy hue | |
| I' m a lark on a wing | |
| I' m the spark of a firefly' s fling | |
| Yet to me this must be | |
| Something more than a seasonal thing | |
| Could it be spring, those bells that I can hear ringing? | |
| It may be spring, but when the robins stop singing | |
| You' re what I' m clinging to | |
| Though they say it' s spring | |
| It' s you | |
| If poets sing that when a heart' s sympathetic | |
| It may be spring, then poets' plights are pathetic | |
| But I' m poetic too | |
| They say it' s spring, for lovers there' s where the lure is | |
| That evil thing, for which September the cure is | |
| This, they are sure, is true | |
| Though I know that it' s so | |
| That my fancy may turn in the spring | |
| With the right one in sight | |
| One can find a perpetual thing | |
| Did I need spring to bring the ring that you bought me? | |
| Though it was spring, that wondrous day that you caught me | |
| Darling I thought we knew | |
| That it wasn' t spring | |
| ' Twas you |
| When I was young, I lived in a world of dreams | |
| Of moods and myths and illusionary schemes | |
| Though now I' m much more grown up | |
| I fear that I must own up | |
| To the fact that I' m in doubt of | |
| What the modern cynics shout of | |
| They say it' s spring, this feeling light as a feather | |
| They say this thing, this magic we share together | |
| Came with the weather too | |
| They say it' s May, that' s made me daft as a daisy | |
| It' s May they say, that' s made the whole world this crazy | |
| Heavenly hazy hue | |
| I' m a lark on a wing | |
| I' m the spark of a firefly' s fling | |
| Yet to me this must be | |
| Something more than a seasonal thing | |
| Could it be spring, those bells that I can hear ringing? | |
| It may be spring, but when the robins stop singing | |
| You' re what I' m clinging to | |
| Though they say it' s spring | |
| It' s you | |
| If poets sing that when a heart' s sympathetic | |
| It may be spring, then poets' plights are pathetic | |
| But I' m poetic too | |
| They say it' s spring, for lovers there' s where the lure is | |
| That evil thing, for which September the cure is | |
| This, they are sure, is true | |
| Though I know that it' s so | |
| That my fancy may turn in the spring | |
| With the right one in sight | |
| One can find a perpetual thing | |
| Did I need spring to bring the ring that you bought me? | |
| Though it was spring, that wondrous day that you caught me | |
| Darling I thought we knew | |
| That it wasn' t spring | |
| ' Twas you |