Lyrics:

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



Where will she go, what shall she do 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 tomorrows parties? Why silken trimmings of yesterday's gown To all tomorrows parties?



What shall 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 tomorrows 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 tomorrows parties