Old Song "The Merry Spring"

The merry Spring,
The bright, bright, Spring,
What joys she shakes from her flow'ry wing!
When the young bird sings from its leafy nest,
How happy it sleeps on its lov'd one's breast;
How sweet to roam at beauty's side,
Thro' glens and dells and woodlands wide;
How sweet to sit by a fountain clear,
And whisper love to a maiden's ear.
And whisper love to a maiden's ear. Oh!

The merry Spring,
The bright, bright, Spring,
What joys she shakes from her flow'ry wing!
The merry Spring,
The bright, bright, Spring,
What joys she shakes from her flow'ry wing!

At merry morn, or evening still
How sweet to roam by the balmy hill,
To cull a wreath of flow'rets rare,
To twine 'mid the locks of a maiden's hair;
How sweet to fly from care and strife,
And the dull, cold round of city life;
To stay thro' wood and shady grove,
And plight our troth to the maid we love.
And plight our troth to the maid we love. Oh!