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!