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

And where will she go and what she gonna do

When midnight comes around

She turn once more to Sundays clown

And cry behind the door

And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrows parties

Linens and silks of last night's gowns

To all tomorrows parties

And what will she do with Thursday's rags

When Monday comes around?

She'll turn once more to Sundays clown

And cry behind the door

And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrows parties

For Thursday's child is Sundays 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 tomorrows parties