Rosemary Clooney Follow

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.