Everybody says she has a heart of gold
A true hostess in salon mould
Poised at centre stage and a picture there
Cool control and ruffled hair
If you should drop by at an evenings close
A final nip before the night’s repose
Her doors are always open
And her arms are always wide
So pay your dues, take off your coat
And step inside
Where there’ll be drinking and dancing and music that screams
In flickering clamour guests live out their dreams
And out of the gloaming with smiling finesse
At the eye of the storm
Shines the perfect hostess
People often say she’s lived a life apart
Emigree, broken heart
An actress for a time in a broadway show
But that was several years ago
Those who find a second home beneath her roof
Have heard the tales, but not the truth
They’ve not had time to ask her as she flits from arm to arm
Besides without a sense of mystery
Where’s her charm?
So she’s still meeting and greeting with consummate flair
An intimate smile shows she’s glad that you’re there
The patrons all fight for her natural noblesse
For whatever her past
She’s the perfect hostsess
People might be shocked to know how she’s bereft
Every night, once guests have left
For one who spends her evenings laughing time away
Life is strangely empty in the day
Clients who are tempted by her warmth of heart
Don’t know she’s put her life into her art
So clever at embracing she no longer feels a jot
Why she’s forgotten she looks happy
When she’s not
So nodding and waving she’ll hold out her hand
They’ll press it with fervour but won’t understand
She fears growing old for who’ll care to caress
The once beautiful form of an ageing host…
Meeting and greeting and kissing each cheek
The welcome is warm but the future looks bleak
Delighted to see her but blind to distress
Who cares what becomes of the perfect hostess?
Words & Music by Sue Casson
Piano/vocals Casson
Violin Jacqueline Dennett
Recorded at Coachroad Studios
by David Oversby-Powell
Beachcomber is an ongoing project
photos by Sarah Morton