The Ladies Who Lunch

I'd like to propose a toast.

Here's to the ladies who lunch.

Everybody laugh.

Lounging in their caftans and planning a brunch.

On their own behalf.

Off to the gym, then to a fitting.

Claiming they're fat and looking grim

Cause they've been sitting choosing a hat.

Does anyone still wear a hat?

I'll drink to that.

And here's to the girls who play smart-

Aren't they a gas?

Rushing to their classes in optical art,

Wishing it would pass.

Another long exhausting day,

Another thousand dollars.

A matinee, a pinter play,

Perhaps a piece of mahler's.

I'll drink to that.

And one for mahler!

And here's to the girls who play wife-

Aren't they too much?

Keeping house but clutching a copy of life,

Just to keep in touch.

The ones who follow the rules,

And meet themselves at the schools,

Too busy to know that they're fools,

Aren't they a gem?

I'll drink to them.

Let's all drink to them.

And here's to the girls who just watch-

Aren't they the best?

When they get depressed

It's a bottle of scotch,

Plus a little jest.

Another chance to disapprove

Another brilliant singer.

Another reason not to move

Another vodka stinger.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!

I'll drink to that.

So here's to the girls on the go-

Everybody tries.

Look into their eyes and you'll see what they know.

Everybody dies.

A toast to that invincible bunch.

The dinosaur surviving the crunch.

Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch-

Everybody rise!

Rise!

Rise! Rise! rise! rise! rise! rise! rise!

Rise!