T Is When The Lark Goes Soaring And The Bee Is At The Bud, When Lightly Dancing Zephyrs Sing Over Field And Flood; When All Sweet Things In Nature Seem Joyfully Achime - 'T Is Then I Wake My Darling, For It Is Kissing Time! Go, Pretty Lark, A-Soaring, And Suck Your Sweets, 0 Bee; Sing, 0 Ye Winds Of Summer, Your Songs To Mine And Me; For With Your Song And Rapture Cometh The Moment When It's Half-Past Kissing Time And Time To Kiss Again! So - So The Days Go Fleeting Like Golden Fancies Free, And Every Day That Cometh Is Full Of Sweets For Me; And Sweetest Are Those Moments My Darling Comes To Climb Into My Lap To Mind Me That It Is Kissing Time. Sometimes, Maybe, He Wanders A Heedless, Aimless Way - Sometimes, Maybe, He Loiters In Pretty, Prattling Play; But Presently Bethinks Him And Hastens To Me Then, For It's Half-Past Kissing Time And Time To Kiss Again!