Jocko and the Trapeze Lady - The Kingston Trio

He was a boy when the circus first came to the dust of his West Texas town

And twenty years later, he’d spent twenty years as Jocko the Sad Circus Clown

He did slap-stick gags in grease paint and rags and the people would laugh 'til

they cried

But they never saw past the painted clown mask to the sad, empty man locked

inside

The trapeze lady swung easy and gracefully, high in the high trapeze swing

Her parents were flyers.

The circus was her life.

The carny was deep in her

veins

High in the spotlights in sequins and pink tights, she flew like a bird in the

wind

The saw dust’s on daughter, the strong men who caught her were all that she

brought to her tent

Jocko worked down with the center ring clowns with a sad painted smile on his

face

And the trapeze lady swung easy and gracefully high in the great canvas space

Jocko looked up with a tear in his heart and, Lord, he wished he could fly

For she never looked down at a baggy pants clown who looked up with love in his

eyes

It was Tulsa, the last stop, the last show of the big top, a loud,

sell-out crowd filled the seats

They clapped for the walk-around and cheered for the clowns.

The fliers brought

them to their feet

Then a still half-lit match fell in tender dry grass and soon found the dry saw

dust floor

The flames leaped higher.

When the people heard, «Fire!»

they swept like a wave

for the door

Jocko looked up to the top of the tent and a hundred feet from the ground

Swung the trapeze lady, up on the high swing, alone, with no way to get down

He ran to the ladder that led to the platform, she cried, «Jocko, no!

There’s no time!»

But her quick word of fear fell deaf on love’s ear as slowly he started to climb

Hand over hand to the high flier’s stand, taking the rope that hung there

With one quick look down, the sad circus clown looked up and took to the air

Slow then slowly he started to swing, his eyes turned to tears in the smoke

Faster then faster and as he swung past her, her strong flier hands found the

rope

She slipped to the ground as the flames found the rigging and licked at the

rope that he held

He’d started below when the rigging let go and down to the saw dust he fell

She ran to his side and with tears in her eyes, «Oh, no!

Jocko, why?»

she cried

He raised his sad head.

«I loved you,» he said and he closed his eyes and he

died

Now, the trapeze lady swings easy and gracefully high in the great canvass space

But a place and a time are still etched in her mind of a smile painted on a sad

face

And she sometimes looks down to the center ring clowns for someone she never

has found

For she still remembers the time when love came to her wearing the face of a

clown