And what costume shall the poor girl wear

 

To all tomorrow's parties

 

A hand-me-down dress from who knows where

 

To all tomorrow's parties

 

And where shall she go and what will she do

When midnight comes around

 

She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown

 

And cry behind the door

 

And what costume shall the poor girl wear

 

To all tomorrow's parties

 

Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns

 

To all tomorrow's parties

 

And what will she do with Thursday's rags

When midnight comes around

 

She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown

 

And 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 mourning

 

A blackened shroud a hand-me-down gown

Of rags and silks a costume

 

Fit for one who sits and cries

 

For all tomorrow's parties