And what costume shall the poor girl wear to all tomorrows parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where to all tomorrows parties
Where will she go what shall 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 tomorrows parties
The silken trimmings of yesterday's gown to all tomorrows parties
What shall she do with Thursday's rags when Monday 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 tomorrows parties
Thursday's child is Sunday's clown from whom no-one ever borrows
A blackened shroud a hand-me-down gown of rags and silks her costume
Fit for one who sits and cries
For all tomorrows parties