As the lights go down

the drumming clown

whistled a melody

and as the rain pours down

his happy face

turned into a sad one

the autumn wind reminded him

that the circus had come and gone

so he opened a pack of swisher sweets

and whistles down the first one

his clothes are ragged

and his hat is dusty

his drum is missing snares

he maybe laughin and he may be cryin

but no one knows nor cares

his belly's empty

but his heart is full

he knows where he belongs

so he steps aboard that lovely train

and he whitsles his favorite song

and as he sleeps

he dreams of all the pretty girls he's seen throughout his life

and though his dreams are sweet

his aching feet

awake him in the night

he wakes to the sound of thunder

and he thinks of a reason why

then he hangs his head to cry

then he drifted off to a deeper sleep

that no one could disturb

and when he woke

he was at a place that was higher than the birds

he said my God I'm here at last

is this meant to be

I've lived the life of a hobo clown

whistle tunes for money

and his Lord spoke up

and said my friend

you are not alone

you've lived a good life my drumming clown

and now you have a home

and somewhere a stockboy opens a crate

and finds the butt of an old cigar

he hears a distant whistling

then he gazes as the stars