And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties ?
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrow's parties
And what shall she do and where will she go
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 tomorrow's parties ?
White silks and linens of yesterday's gowns
To all tomorrow's parties
And what will 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 tomorrow's parties ?
For Thursday's child is Sunday's 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 tomorrow's parties