| Isn’t it rich? |
| Are we a pair?
|
| Me here at last on the ground
|
| You in mid-air
|
| Send in the clowns
|
| Isn’t it bliss? |
| Don’t you approve?
|
| One who keeps tearing around
|
| One who can’t move
|
| Where are the clowns?
|
| Send in the clowns
|
| Just when I’d stopped opening doors
|
| Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours
|
| Making my entrance again with my usual flair
|
| Sure of my lines
|
| No one is there
|
| Don’t you love a farce?
|
| My fault, I fear
|
| I thought that you’d want what I want
|
| Sorry, my dear
|
| But where are the clowns?
|
| There ought to be clowns
|
| Quick send in the clowns
|
| What a surprise
|
| Who could foresee?
|
| I’d come to feel about you
|
| What you felt about me
|
| Why only now when I see
|
| That you’ve drifted away?
|
| What a surprise
|
| What a cliche
|
| Isn’t it rich? |
| Isn’t it queer?
|
| Losing my timing this late in my career
|
| And where are the clowns?
|
| Quick, send in the clowns
|
| Don’t bother; |
| they’re here |