One dozen bees buzzing,
Spring fever, pure ether, scent is in your hair
Makes me want to share your name
Bells ringing, birds singing, down a country lane
Summoning you to the game
Slow cricket, old wicket, on the village green
See the scene through cups of tea
So English, distinguished, hands upon their knees
Grumbling like b**ble bees
One dozen bees buzzing, around a golden hive
Watch them take a dive and see
Sweet honey, so sunny, glistens in the bowl
Shining out it's 'glory be'
The vicar, skips quicker, cassocks in the wind
'I have never sinned' says he
Cucumber, slips under, nose above his chin
Followed by his wife's sloe gin
Dancer creating on the glad befriending stage
- When the time it is
Whirling burning life on all she meets
- Mirror the dancing
Over the land and through
The airs become the graces that are hidden on your face
Surrender do do it they knew it
The treason of her kiss
We advance relating on your mad beguiling song
- When the time it is
Turning yearning wife of all the years
- Years are becoming
Colder and longer now
But please remember that no time is long
Spring is the dancer the lover of men
She will sing for you over and over again
Surrender, befriend her and fight to the end
If the rhyme is your treason
She must be your friend
Winter has spoken on it's sad untimely drum
- When the call is
Swirling twirling strife to all it sees
- Season of ice
Will tell you the price it bears
The field that once was open is now hidden from your view
Pretender, you did it, you hid it
The crowning of the king
Fight another winter and you'll live another spring
- When the call is
Swirling twirling death is where he stands
- Staggers the growth
And stammers the oath
He swears he'll take the dancer by the hand
Spring is the dancer the lover of men
She will sing for you over and over again
Surrender, befriend her and fight to the end
If the rhyme is your treason
She must be your friend
The king is returning the queen is to die
In a riot of colour she falls from the sky
The kingdom is dancing to sad lullabies
She has no real answers, she just passes by
Spring fever, pure ether, scent is in your hair
Makes me want to share your name
Bells ringing, birds singing, down a country lane
Summoning you to the game
Slow cricket, old wicket, on the village green
See the scene through cups of tea
So English, distinguished, hands upon their knees
Grumbling like b**ble bees
One dozen bees buzzing, around a golden hive
Watch them take a dive and see
Sweet honey, so sunny, glistens in the bowl
Shining out it's 'glory be'
The vicar, skips quicker, cassocks in the wind
'I have never sinned' says he
Cucumber, slips under, nose above his chin
Followed by his wife's sloe gin
Dancer creating on the glad befriending stage
- When the time it is
Whirling burning life on all she meets
- Mirror the dancing
Over the land and through
The airs become the graces that are hidden on your face
Surrender do do it they knew it
The treason of her kiss
We advance relating on your mad beguiling song
- When the time it is
Turning yearning wife of all the years
- Years are becoming
Colder and longer now
But please remember that no time is long
Spring is the dancer the lover of men
She will sing for you over and over again
Surrender, befriend her and fight to the end
If the rhyme is your treason
She must be your friend
Winter has spoken on it's sad untimely drum
- When the call is
Swirling twirling strife to all it sees
- Season of ice
Will tell you the price it bears
The field that once was open is now hidden from your view
Pretender, you did it, you hid it
The crowning of the king
Fight another winter and you'll live another spring
- When the call is
Swirling twirling death is where he stands
- Staggers the growth
And stammers the oath
He swears he'll take the dancer by the hand
Spring is the dancer the lover of men
She will sing for you over and over again
Surrender, befriend her and fight to the end
If the rhyme is your treason
She must be your friend
The king is returning the queen is to die
In a riot of colour she falls from the sky
The kingdom is dancing to sad lullabies
She has no real answers, she just passes by