| Oh, the barnyard is busy in a regular tizzy,
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| And the obvious reason is because of the season
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| Ma Nature’s lyrical, with her yearly miracle
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| Spring, Spring, Spring.
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| All the hen-folk are hatchin'
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| While their men-folk are scrathin'
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| To ensure the survival of each brand new arrival.
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| DORCAS:
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| Each nest is twitterin',
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| They’re all baby-sitterin',
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| Spring, Spring, Spring.
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| It’s a beehive of buddin' son and daughter life,
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| Every family has plans in view.
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| Even down in the brook the underwater life
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| Is forever blowin' bubbles too.
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| Every field wears a bonnet
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| With some spring daisies on it,
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| Even birds of a feather show their clothes off together.
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| Sun’s gettin' shinery, to spotlight the finery,
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| Spring, Spring, Spring.
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| From his eerie, the eagle with his eagle eye
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| Gazes down across his eagle beak
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| And a’fixin' his lady with the legal eye
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| Screams «suppose we fix the date this week!»
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| Yes, siree, spring disposes
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| That it’s all one supposes
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| It’s a real bed of roses
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| Waggin' tails, rubbin' noses.
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| Each day is Mother’s Day
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| The next is some other’s day
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| When all is King |