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
The letter I wrote was polite
But it would have been bliss, had I dared write her this
The letter I wanted to write:
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
Of 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
And 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