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I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face

This song is by Rex Harrison and appears on the musical soundtrack My Fair Lady (1956).

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I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!

I've grown accustomed to her face
She almost makes the day begin
I've grown accustomed to the tune
That she whistles night and noon
Her smiles, her frowns
Her ups, her downs
Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out and breathing in

I was serenely independent and content before we met
Surely I could always be that way again, and yet
I've grown accustomed to her look
Accustomed to her voice
Accustomed to her face

"Marry Freddy." What an infantile idea. What a heartless, wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret, she'll regret it! It's doomed before they even take the vow.

I can see her now, Mrs. Freddy Eynsford-Hill
In a wretched little flat above a store
I can see her now, not a penny in the till
And a bill collector beating at the door

She'll try to teach the things I taught her
And end up selling flowers instead
Begging for her bread and water
While her husband has his breakfast in bed

In a year, or so, when she's prematurely grey
And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk
She'll come home, and lo, he'll have upped and run away
With a social-climbing heiress from New York

Poor Eliza, how simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!

How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers on my door in tears and rags
Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite
Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls?
Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?

But I'm a most forgiving man
The sort who never could, ever would
Take a position and staunchly never budge
A most forgiving man

But, I shall never take her back
If she were crawling on her knees
Let her promise to atone
Let her shiver, let her moan
I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!

"Marry Freddy"...ha!

But I'm so used to hear her say
"Good morning" ev'ry day
Her joys, her woes
Her highs, her lows
Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out and breathing in

I'm very grateful she's a woman and so easy to forget
Rather like a habit one can always break, and yet
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air
Accustomed to her face


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