She said,
“Come in, my dear,
You're looking tired tonight.
Your bath is drawn, let me loosen your tie,
And fix you your usual drink”.
He settles back,
Takes a magazine,
Kicks off his shoes, as he studies the form
Of every appealing soubrette.
But where are the flowers that he used to bring?
Every endearing remark
Reminds her of passionate promises
That he only made in the dark.
In her bed
She wants to shout at the back of his head:
“Look at me, look at me, look at me I'm afraid!
See what it's come to,
I'm just your mistress and maid!”
The wine is warm
But the dinner is cold,
The look in his eye tells her it won't be long,
Till the girls on the page come to life
And they'll get the flowers that he used to bring
With every endearing remark
And all of the passionate promises
He'll never fulfill in the dark.
In their bed
She wants to shout at the back of his head:
“Look at me, look at me, now that I'm not afraid!
See what it's come to,
I'm not your mistress and maid!”
See what it's come to,
I'm not your mistress and maid!