Today In Portland, Oregon... 75 Degrees & Sunny

On the first warm day

On the first warm day in May

I'm going to come a calling

& bring you a big bouquet

On the first warm night

That the moon is shining bright

We won't feel much like talking

So kiss me and hold me tight

Then we'll climb the hill

& there beneath the cherry tree

Where all is still

You'll say marry me

Oh marry

 Marry me

The very very first warm day

On the first warm day in May

We'll teach the birds & bees

A thing or two

Oh see how I love you

Now on the first warm night

That the moon is shining bright

We won't feel much like talkin'

So kiss me and hold me tight

Then we'll climb the hill

& there beneath the cherry tree

Where all is still

You'll say marry me

Oh marry me

Oh marry

 Marry me

The first warm day

Oh the first warm day in May

We'll teach the birds & bees

A thing or two

Oh see how I love you

 Cogan & Howard

1953

Spring Song... It's Anybody's Spring

You think that money is everything

& yet it’s anybody’s Spring

Go make a fortune,

Become a king

& still it’s anybody’s Spring

& if you flash a bank roll

Do you suppose the brook would care?

Or that a rose would say

“There goes a millionaire!”

It’s more than diamonds around a ring

Because it’s anybody’s Spring

You may be born with the silver spoon

& yet it’s anybody’s moon

You couldn’t buy a ticket

To hear the first robin sing

It’s free because

It’s anybody’s Spring

Burke / Van Heusen

1943

I Feel So Gay In A Melancholy Way

I’m as restless as a willow in a windstorm
I’m as jumpy as puppet on a string

I’d say that I had spring fever

But I know it isn't spring

I am starry eyed & vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing

O why should I have spring fever

When it isn't even spring?

I keep wishing I were someone else
Walking down a strange new street

Hearing words that I've never head

From someone I've yet to meet

I’m as busy as 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

Rodgers/Hammerstein

1945 

Spring Song #2... Spring Is Here

  

Once there was a thing called Spring

When the world was writing

Verses like yours & mine

All the boys & girls would sing

As we sat at little tables

& drank May wine

Now April, May & June

Seem sadly out of tune

Life has stuck a pin in the balloon

Spring is here,

Why doesn't my heart go dancing?

Spring is here,

Why isn't the waltz entrancing?

No desire, no ambition leads me

Maybe it's because nobody needs me

Spring is here,

Why doesn't the breeze delight me

Stars appear,

Why doesn't the night invite me

Maybe it's because nobody loves me

Spring is here

Spring is here

Spring is here

I hear

Rodgers & Hart

1930

Songs Of Spring

A dreaded sunny day

So I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats & Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day

So I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats & Yeats are on your side

While Wilde is on mine

So we go inside

& we gravely read the stones

All those people all those lives

Where are they now?

With the loves & hates

& passions just like mine

They were born

& then they lived & then they died

seems so unfair

& I want to cry

You say:

 "ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"

& you claim these words as your own

But I've read well, & I've heard them said

100 times, maybe less, maybe more

If you must write prose & poems

The words you use should be your own

Don't plagiarize or take "on loans"

There's always someone, somewhere

With a big nose, who knows

& who trips you up & laughs

When you fall

Who'll trip you up & laugh

When you fall

You say:

 "ere long done do does did"

words which could only be your own

& then you then produce the text

From whence was ripped

 Some dizzy whore, 1804

A dreaded sunny day

So let's go where we're happy

& I meet you at the cemetery gates

Oh Keats & Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day

So let's go where we're wanted

& I meet you at the cemetery gates

Keats & Yeats are on your side

But you lose because Wilde is on mine
Morrissey/Marr
1985