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I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face - Rex Harrison
Damn Damn Damn Damn
I've grown accustomed to her face
She almost makes the day begin
I've grown accustomed to the tune that
She whistles night and noon
Her smiles her frowns
Her ups her downs
Are second nature to me now;
Like breathing out and breathing in
I was serenely independent
And content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her look;
Accustomed to her voice;
Accustomed to her face
Marry Freddy
What an infantile idea
What a heartless
Wicked brainless thing to do
But she'll regret she'll
Regret it
It's doomed before they even take the vow
I can see her now
Mrs Freddy Eynsford Hill
In a wretched little flat above a store
I can see her now
Not a penny in the till
And a bill collector beating at the door
She'll try to teach
The things I taught her
And end up selling flowers instead
Begging for her bread and water
While her husband
Has his breakfast in bed
In a year or so
When she's prematurely grey
And the blossom
In her cheek has turned to chalk
She'll come home and low
He'll have upped and run away
With a social climbing heiress
From New York
Poor Eliza How simply frightful
How humiliating How delightful
How poignant
It'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers
On my door in tears and rags
Miserable and lonely
Repentant and contrite
Will I take her in
Or hurl her to the walls
Give her kindness
Or the treatment she deserves
Will I take her back
Or throw the baggage out
But I'm a most forgiving man;
The sort who never could
Ever would
Take a position
And staunchly never budge
A most forgiving man
But I shall never take her back
If she were even crawling on her knees
Let her promise to atone;
Let her shiver let her moan;
I'll slam the door and let
The hell cat freeze
Marry Freddy ha
But I'm so used to hear her say
Good morning every day
Her joys her woes
Her highs her lows
Are second nature to me now;
Like breathing out
And breathing in
I'm very grateful she's a woman
And so easy to forget;
Rather like a habit
One can always break
And yet
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air;
Accustomed to her face
