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Another tourist runs to town today |
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Another florist in some solemn way |
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Arranges flowers for a funeral bouquet, or a wedding. |
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And theirs a shop that's down a block |
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Where sweet iced tea will never stop |
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And I just can't believe how hot it's getting. |
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Another year for playing children |
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And writing songs for them to sing |
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And I sit here beside my window, I'm not alone |
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And there's jubalee. |
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There's a circus in a town somewhere |
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Beside six little dogs a clown is there |
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People laughing at the color of his hair, or what he's wearing. |
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The clown's in-love with a contortionist |
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Beside the lion cage he tells her this |
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And as they kiss they seem to miss that little dogs and elephants are staring. |
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Another year for the romantic |
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Unwritten songs we used to sing |
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As I sit here beside my window, I'm not alone |
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And there's jubalee. |
