And
what costume shall the poor girl wear?
To all
tomorrow's parties
A hand-me-down gown from who knows where
To all
tomorrow's parties And where will she go?
And what shall she do When midnight comes around?
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
A cry behind
the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear?
To all tomorrow's parties And silks and lemons of yesterday's gowns
To all tomorrow's parties And what will she do with Thursday's rags
When Monday comes around?
She'll turn
once more to Sunday's clown A cry
behind
the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear?
To all
tomorrow's parties
For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
For whom none will go morning
A blackened shroud A hand-me-down gown
Of rags and silks A costume
Will fit the one
who sits and cries
For all tomorrow's
parties
For all
tomorrow's parties