Music by: Gordon Jenkins
With the Hollywood String
Quartet
Arranged by: Nelson Riddle
Label: Capitol Records
Recorded: March 8, 1956
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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.