The Carousel - Jim Bob

When the fat kid gets off

We’ll climb on the lead horse

Riding into the mountains

I’ve been saving a place

On my back for your face

Wrap your arms round my waist and hold tight

On the carousel

Away from the show-offs

Spinning the waltzers

Making the pretty girls scream

We’ll stay with the mother

Consoling her daughter

When she drops her scoop of ice-cream

On the carousel

When the young girl fell

We heard her scream

As they pulled her free

From the machinery of the carousel

The carousel

Before the fair opened

The carousel showman

Would polish the barley-twist poles

Oiling the gears

Cleaning the mirrors

Testing the roundabout’s controls

Some people say the carousel is too slow

Others say it’s a white-knuckle ride

And the galloper’s showman

Picking gum off the horses

Says it’s a metaphor for life

The carousel

When the young girl fell

We heard her scream

As they pulled her free

From the machinery of the carousel

The carousel

There’s a Wurlitzer organ

At the carousel centre

Grinding out an old-fashioned tune

Battling with the slick pop

The R&B and hip-hop

From the dodgems and the rocket to the moon

When the ride is over

I throw a dart into a playing card

And win you an oversized toy

A generic Pink Panther

With a face like an anchor

Sown on by a six-year-old boy

Who’ll never ride the waltzers

Or the cup-and-saucers

Or listen to an old-fashioned song

As the ride slows to a stop

Like an old broken clock

And the Wurlitzer organ plays on

On the carousel

When the young girl fell

We heard her scream

As they pulled her free

From the deadly teeth

Of the gears beneath

The cranks and wheels

The iron and steel

Of the machinery