It seems spring fever hits us hard
When the sun begins to shine,
We want to set the world on fire
We sure feel fit and fine.

We grab a rake from out the shed
And how we go to work,
A rakin' all around the yard
And nothing do we shirk.

Then shovel, hoe, and digging fork
We jab into the ground,
It seems we'll set a record
The way we run around.

Our shoulders ache, our muscles tire,
Our legs and arms are sore,
But we must heed spring fever
So we dig and hoe some more.

Soon the soil is ready
And we go and plant our seeds,
And then it's all forgotten
Till the place has turned to weeds.