What good is sitting alone In your room?
Put down the knitting, The book and the broom.
Come taste the wine, Come hear the band.
Come blow a horn, Start celebrating;
Right this way, Your table's waiting.
What good's permitting Some prophet of doom
I used to have a girlfriend Known as Elsie,
With whom I shared A four sordid rooms in Chelsea
She wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower…
As a matter of fact she rented by the hour.
The day she died the neighbors Came to snicker:
"Well, that's what comes from too much pills and liquor."
But when I saw her laid out like a Queen,
She was the happiest… corpse… I'd ever seen.
I think of Elsie to this very day.
I remember how she'd turn to me and say:
"What good is sitting all alone in you room?
I made my mind up, back in Chelsea,
When I go, I'm going like Elsie.