The summer's good for tulips,
|
Though pansies disagree.
|
They find the heat most distasteful,
|
And humidity far too grim to stand up tall
|
And bargain with the bees.
|
They prefer to droop and mope
|
And wait for autumn's breeze.
|
|
The autumn's good for pumpkins,
|
Though apples don't approve.
|
The trees that they've been living on
|
now forces them to move,
|
And rudely lets them to fall
|
and sends them quick to their demise
|
Without so much a bon voyage or even a goodbye.
|
|
The winter's good for penguins,
|
Though brown bears must object.
|
When talk comes to the joys of winter,
|
They must interject,
|
"Hibernating in the snow just isn't where it's at,
|
because sleeping makes you skinny,
|
and we bears like to be fat."
|
|
The springtime is the season,
|
Where everyone's a friend.
|
Loneliness and desperation both come to an end.
|
No matter how you died through winter,
|
In spring you're born again,
|
Your life might not be going good,
|
But spring helps you to pretend.
|
|
-----------------
|
Springtime Is the Season
|
| Of Montreal |
