Shayari Bazar

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the years pleasant king;Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing--Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay--Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,In every street these tunes our ears do greet--Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!Spring, the sweet Spring!