Isn’t it rich?Are we a pair?Me here at last on the ground,You in mid-air,Where are the clowns?
Isn’t it bliss?Don’t you approve?One who keeps tearing around,One who can’t move,Where are the clowns?There ought to be clowns.
Just when I’d stopped opening doors,Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yoursMaking my entrance again with my usual flairSure of my linesNo one is there
Don’t you love farce?My fault, I fearI thought that you’d want what I wantSorry, my dear!But where are the clowns?Send in the clowns.Don’t bother, they’re here
Isn’t it rich?Isn’t it queer?Losing my timing this late in my careerBut where are the clowns?There ought to be clowns.Well, maybe next year.