| When the fat kid gets off
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| We’ll climb on the lead horse
|
| Riding into the mountains
|
| I’ve been saving a place
|
| On my back for your face
|
| Wrap your arms round my waist and hold tight
|
| On the carousel
|
| Away from the show-offs
|
| Spinning the waltzers
|
| Making the pretty girls scream
|
| We’ll stay with the mother
|
| Consoling her daughter
|
| When she drops her scoop of ice-cream
|
| On the carousel
|
| When the young girl fell
|
| We heard her scream
|
| As they pulled her free
|
| From the machinery of the carousel
|
| The carousel
|
| Before the fair opened
|
| The carousel showman
|
| Would polish the barley-twist poles
|
| Oiling the gears
|
| Cleaning the mirrors
|
| Testing the roundabout’s controls
|
| Some people say the carousel is too slow
|
| Others say it’s a white-knuckle ride
|
| And the galloper’s showman
|
| Picking gum off the horses
|
| Says it’s a metaphor for life
|
| The carousel
|
| When the young girl fell
|
| We heard her scream
|
| As they pulled her free
|
| From the machinery of the carousel
|
| The carousel
|
| There’s a Wurlitzer organ
|
| At the carousel centre
|
| Grinding out an old-fashioned tune
|
| Battling with the slick pop
|
| The R&B and hip-hop
|
| From the dodgems and the rocket to the moon
|
| When the ride is over
|
| I throw a dart into a playing card
|
| And win you an oversized toy
|
| A generic Pink Panther
|
| With a face like an anchor
|
| Sown on by a six-year-old boy
|
| Who’ll never ride the waltzers
|
| Or the cup-and-saucers
|
| Or listen to an old-fashioned song
|
| As the ride slows to a stop
|
| Like an old broken clock
|
| And the Wurlitzer organ plays on
|
| On the carousel
|
| When the young girl fell
|
| We heard her scream
|
| As they pulled her free
|
| From the deadly teeth
|
| Of the gears beneath
|
| The cranks and wheels
|
| The iron and steel
|
| Of the machinery |