Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby gives weekends
and her weekends are not a success,
but she asks you so often
you finally soften
and end by answering "Yes."
When I left Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby's
The letter I wrote was polite
But it would have been bliss
Had I dared write her this,
The letter I wanted to write:
Refrain
Thank you so much, Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby,
Thank you so much.
Thank you so much for that infinite weekend with you.
Thank you a lot, Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby,
Thank you a lot,
And don't be surprised if you suddenly should be quietly shot
For the clinging perfume
And that damp little room,
For those cocktails so hot
And the bath that was not,
For those guests so amusing and mentally bracing
Who talked about racing and racing and racing,
For the ptomaine I got from your famous tin salmon,
For the fortune I lost when you taught me backgammon,
For those mornings I spent with your dear but deaf mother,
For those evenings I passed with that bounder, your brother,
And for making me swear to myself there and then
Never to go for a weekend again.
Thank you so much, Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby,
Thank you, thank you so much.