|
What is there to write? What is there to say? |
|
Same things happen everyday, not a thing to write, not a thing to say |
|
So I take my pen in hand and start the same old way |
|
Dear, I thought I'd drop a line, the weather's cool, the folks are fine |
|
I'm in bed each night at nine, P. S. I love you |
|
Yesterday we had some rain, but all in all, I can't complain |
|
Was it just beyond the train, P. S. I love you |
|
Write to the Browns just as soon as you're able |
|
They came around to call, and I burned a hole in the dining room table |
|
And let me see, I guess that's all |
|
Nothing else for me to say, and so I'll close but by the way |
|
Everybody's thinking of you, P. S. I love you |
|
I do my best to obey all your wishes, I put a sign up "Think" |
|
But I gotta buy us a new set of dishes, or wash the ones that are piled in the sink |
|
Nothing else to tell you dear, except each day seems like a year |
|
Every night I'm dreaming of you, P. S. I love you |