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A mischievous season called Spring
Liked to tickle the tree tops an’ ting
And teach songs to the birds
Full of old fashioned words
Oh the rude songs Spring taught them to sing!

Spring liked to laugh, and to run
On the hill tops and wind up the sun
With a glint in her eye
And the hint of a thigh
And her hair down and buttons undone

Sometimes she’d knock off a joke
How the squirrels would squeak as she spoke
And oh how the tits
Loved the sniggery bits
Of the ones for the feistier folk!

Spring liked the tease and the chase
Oh the flirtatious look on her face!
Catch me!  She’d say
Always getting away
Well, not always.  A time, and a place

A word, Winter said, in your ear
You’re crossing a line here, I fear
Enough of the bants
And the flashing of pants
It’s most unbecoming, my dear

Winter, said Spring, you’re as old
And as wet and as grey and as cold
As a sheep in the mud
While I’ve fire in my blood
I shall not do a thing that I’m told!

And off she went, flicking the Vs
I am Spring, and I’ll do what I please!
Off to dance in the ring
With no knickers an’ ting
And to tickle the leaves in the trees

© Gail Foster 17th March 2018

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