(Dropping hands in single file they pass to back of stage singing.)
Springtime is here, tra-la, tra-la,
Brooklets run clear, tra-la, tra-la,
Birds are winging, flowers springing,
For springtime is here, tra-la, tra-la.
Arbor Day.
Thank you, friends, greeting sweeter,
Never yet a queen had greet her.
But who comes now in trim array
So straight and proud,—tell me, pray?