Today we celebrate our 28th anniversary;

I won't forget the day we wed and the queues in Casualty.

The doctor said it almost was a fatal injury;

I ended up in stitches and I'm laughing still, you see,

how long will it be before I come round?

I'm your clown.

 

You've given me a kitten and I gave you Leonard Cohen;

I'm underneath an avalanche of kisses you're bestowing.

You wonder sometimes whether we can keep the passion flowing;

I'll rush to get my kit off when the final whistle's blowing -

we're gonna share the same burial ground.

I'm your clown.

 

Now the kids are growing up I wish that I could stop them;

if I'd known how they'd turn out I'd have sent them for adoption.

One day there'll be grandchildren whose names will be forgotten;

with any luck they won't decide to visit very often.

We won't take them when the circus comes to town.

I'm your clown.

 

You moan relief through parted teeth and tell me I don't listen;

do you expect I don't recollect my role in this position?

I recommend you don't reprehend a man upon his mission;

if I'd shot you when I met you by now I'd be out of prison

and I know how much you'd like me to go down.

I'm your clown.