The Lady's Paying

Hurry up, the birthday boy is on his way
This is a surprise celebration
I hope you've remembered everything I've said
I want to see a total transformation
What's all this?
Happy birthday, darling. Did you think we'd forgotten?
Well... I don't know
These people are from the best men's shop in town
I had them close it down for a day
Norma, now listen!

I'll leave you boys to it
Happy birthday, welcome to your shopathon
What's going on?
Help yourself, it's all been taken care of
Anyone who's anyone is dressed by me
Well, golly gee.

Pick out anything you like a pair of
You just point, I'll do the rest
I have brought nothing but the best
You're a very lucky writer
Come along now, get undressed
Unless I'm much mistaken
That's a 42-inch chest.

I don't understand a word you're saying
Well, all you need to know's the lady's paying
It's nice to get your just reward this time of year
Get out of here!
And all my merchandise is strictly Kosher
When you've thrown away all your old worn-out stuff
Hey, that's enough.

Perhaps you'd like to model for my brochure
I have just a thing for you chalk-stripe suits
In black.

Or blue
Glen paid trousers
Cashmere sweaters
Bathing shorts for Malibu
Here's a patent leather lace-up
It's a virtuoso shoe
And a simply marvelous coat made of vicuna
You know what you can do with your vicuna
Come on, Joe, you haven't even started yet
You wanna bet?

I thought by now he'd look the height of fashion
He always takes forever making up his mind, don't be unkind
I thought you writer knew about compassion
I love Flannel on a man
This will complement his tan
We'll take two of these and four of those.

I'm still your greatest fan!
Very soon now we'll have stopped him looking like an also-ran
You're going to make me sorry that I'm staying
Well, all right. I'll choose, after all, I'm paying.
Evening clothes?
I want to see your most deluxe
Won't wear a tux
Of course not, dear, tuxedos are for waiters.
What we need are tails, a white tie and top hat
I can't wear that
Joe, second-rate clothes are for second-raters
Norma, please
Shut up, I'm rich
Not some platinum blonde bitch
I own so many apartments
I've forgotten which is which
I don't have to go to premieres
I'm never on display
You seem to forget that I'm a writer
Who cares what you wear when you're a writer?

I care, Joe, and please don't be so mean to me
O.K. all right
You can't come to my New Year's Eve party
In that filling- station shirt
I've been invited somewhere else on New Year's Eve
Where?
Artie Green. He's an old friend of mine.

I can't do without you, Joe, I need you
I've sent out every single invitation
All right, Norma, I give in
Of course, you do
And when they've dressed you
You'll cause a sensation
We equip the chosen few of movieland
(The latest cut)
We dress every movie star and crooner
From their shiny toecaps to their hatband
(Conceal your gut)
You won't regret selecting the vicuna
If you need a hand to shake
If there's a girl you want to make
If there's a soul you're out to capture
Or a heart you want to break
If you want the world to love you
You'll have to learn to take
And gracefully accept the role you're playing
You will earn every cent the lady's paying
So why not have it all?
Now that didn't hurt, did it?
The lady's paying!