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Jerry Herman
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The Spring of Next Year
There will be a sweet taste in the air From industrial waste in the air; And your eyelids will smart from the sting of the smog in the spring of next year. There will be a black slick on the Seine, And the sludge will be thick on the Seine; And your eardrums will thrill to the ring of the axe in the spring of next year. Ahh, the apple trees blooming, as they're crushed into pulp; There'll be smokestacks consuming each available gulp that's inhalable. But the moment most thrilling begins when the pneumatic drilling begins; It's a song that all Paris will sing in the bountiful spring of next year. Ahh… You'll be watching the statues corrode, we'll be hearing the fountains explode; It's a song that the hatchets will ring and the derricks will ding and all Paris will sing in the bountiful spring of next year.
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