Oh, the air’s a little fresher
When we feel that new spring breeze;
And the sun’s a little brighter
When the dogwood paints the trees.
And the redbud comes a blushing
On those ancient Ozark hills;
As we now hunt those ghost morels
In the hollows and the dells.
Oh, the tulip trees come dancing
As squirrels commence to chatter;
Yes, old spring fever’s in our blood
And our troubles just don’t matter.
The bird’s put their hearts in singing
‘Cause just what’s a spring all for?
It’s a celebration living
As our hearts and spirits soar!
Yes, the wind’s a little cleaner
As that old gray winter flees;
And that gold sun lights up our souls
As dogwood resurrects the trees.
Copyright © Glen Enloe