Bring on the clowns, my friends.
Haul them in caravans
Across continents
To the stages where they will
Make us laugh.

Paint their noses red,
Blood red and cross
Their eyes with black stars -
Their faces the marble white of alabaster
Huge lips, a Rothko vermillion
Sucking the souls of
Seven million men -
Bright orange curls
Tucked under a leg-like hat.
Bring me their heads
Nestling on fancy ruffs with yellow beads.

Welcome to our carnival
But weep no tears.
Tears are for fools and
Balding men.
Compassion is now only for the cross.
We want to see you trip and fall
And we'll laugh at your enormous shoes
And stripy socks. Your poverty will be our prize.
And the joke will be that tomorrow
We won't remember
But like a worn and broken groove
On an old record , the needle
Goes round and round
and round and the tune is always the same.

Bring on the clowns
For the final act.
Pity has died.