Oh the clowns lined up
Two or three deep rows
Like an army of Edom
All marching from Rome
The clowns are freed from their slavery
In bondage to the King of the laughing gnomes
He lays them out upon his lawn
And sprinkles them about
With wild corn
They must laugh now
They mustn't cry
For the first clown to do so
Will surely die
Oh what became of those
Laughing slaves?
Who marched across
The sea of waves
They left him laughing in his throne
Belly aching tongue lolling
Beads of sweat on his brow
And shaking violently
Epileptic King
Whose madness was
The lust of laughing
The joke it seemed was at last on him
And all his castle walls so thin
For the laughing wolf pack
They soon got in
The howling hyenas of Jo King
His soul was buried in the rubble
When the clowns
exploded their laughter bomb
The joke went off, but was a dud
The real punch line came from God
Who let lightning fall and strike
The spire that conducted down into
The choir
And the singers burned as they were singing
For the king
His praises learned practicing
The joke which taught the king to kneel
The Clowns left off, high tailed across the field
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