Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
Don't try to stop me, Horace,
Wave your little hand and whisper
You ain't gonna see me anymore
that your life is dreary,
don't you come a -knockin' at my door
For I'll be all dolled up
and a -singin' that song that says, Ya doll,
So wave your little hand and whisper,
So long, dearie, dearie, shoulda said,
Ah, you treated me so rotten and rough
I had enough of feeling low
So wave your little hand to the whistler
So long, dearie, dearie, should've said
For I can hear that choo -choo
Calling me on to a fancy new address
Oh, Lord, I hear that choo -choo
I'm callin' beyond on board
I'm gonna learn the hoochie -coo
I'm going as far away from Yonkers
And on those cold winter nights,
Snuggle up to that old cash register
And a -singin' that song that says,
So, Horace, you will find your life