Have you ever watched the clowns at play,
White, red and black on circus day?
They're always very, very gay.
I wonder how they stay that way!

I'd like to be a clown,
Playing tricks around the town,
Turning somersaults and springs,
As if they were easy things,
Laughing morning, noon and night,
Being such a funny sight!

Do you think, then, I'd grow tired of fun,
Laughing so from sun to sun?
Or, when performances are done,
Do clown-folk cry like anyone?