When Spring comes to the library                                                                                                                                 

The pollen count just soars                                                                                                                                            

And with our windows sealed up tight                                                                                                                          

It’s worse than out of doors                                                                                                                                           

The patrons drag in mud although                                                                                                                                 

The day is clear and dry                                                                                                                                                  

We don’t know how they do that                                             

 And it’s better not to pry                                                       

 

When Spring comes to the children’s room                   

The little dears attack                                                          

Their folks are on the tennis courts                        

Or jogging down the track                                                   

If we call Social Services                                                    

Or toss ‘em in the street                                                      

I’m guessing our next levy vote                                           

Will go down in defeat                                                         

 

The patrons mark the equinox                    

By hiding eggs and changing clocks      

And for umbrellas they will use                   

Whichever big art books they choose