What is there to write? What is there to say?
The same things happen every 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
But 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 got to buy us a new set of dishes
Or wash the ones that I piled in the sink
Nothing else to tell you, dear
'Cept each day seems like a year
Every night I'm dreamin' of you
P.S. I love you