Published in the Republican Champion April 30, 1885 in Newport, NH
Originally published in the Detroit Free Press by Hal Berto
The old man sits in the garden chair,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring,
His hat is off, so his head is bare,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring,
He readeth Tupper, it makes him weep,
And anon he falls in a calm, deep sleep,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
The early wasp hath a vicious look,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
As he cometh out of his winter’s nook,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
He seeth the old man’s shiny pate.
And his wild eye gleams with a deadly hate,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
Loudly the old man snores in the sun,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring,
Quickly the little wasp hies to the fun,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
He sits him down with a fiendish glee,
And goes for that head with a one, two, three,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
Yells of “murder” are heard around,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring,
The old man rose with a terrible bound,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
He sprang three feet and came down hard,
And hence this song by a Springtide bard,
Spring, Spring, beautiful Spring.
