@migu music@

What is there to write, what is there to say?

Same things happen ev'ry day;

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 dusty on the train?

P.S. I love you.

Write to the Browns just as soon as you're able,

They came around to call;

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,

Ev'rybody's thinking of you.

P.S. I love you.