The Circus Band

All summer long, we boys

dreamed 'bout big circus joys!

Down Main street, comes the band,

Oh! "Aint it a grand and glorious noise!"

Horses are prancing, knights advancing;

Helmets gleaming, pennants streaming,

Cleopatra's on her throne!

That golden hair is all her own.

Where is the lady all in pink?

Last year she waved to me I think,

Can she have died? Can! that! rot!

She is passing but she sees me not.