Wild Billys Circus Story — текст песни (Bruce Springsteen)

The machinist climbs his ferris wheel like a brave and the fire-eaters lyin in a pool of sweat victim of the heatwave,

Behind the tent the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallowers blade,

Circus towns on the shortwave



Well the runway lies ahead like a great false dawn,

Fat lady, big mama, missy bimbo sits in her chair and yawns,

And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin popcorn and the midget licks his fingers and suffers missy bimbos scorn

Circus towns been born.



And a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro cartwheelin up on that tightrope,

With a cannon blast, lightin flash, movin fast through the tent, mars bent,

Hes gonna miss his fall, oh God save the human cannonball.



And the flying zambinis watch marguarita do her neck twist,

And the ringmaster gets the crowd to count along: 95, 96, 97.



A ragged suitcase in his hand, he steals silently away from the circus grounds,

And the highways haunted by the carnival sounds

They dance like a great greasepaint ghost on the wind,

A man in baggy pants, a lonely face, a crazy grin, runnin home to some small ohio town

Jesus, send some sweet women to save all your clowns



And circus boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire, and the barker romances with a junkie, shes got a flat tire,

And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays like a jungle fire,

Circus towns on the live wire.



And the strong man sampson lifts the midget, little tiny tim, up on his shoulders, way up, and carries him on down the midway past the kids, past the sailors, to his dimly lit trailer,

And the ferris wheel turns and turns like it aint ever gonna stop,

And the circus boss leans over and whispers into the little boys ear, hey son you want to try the big top?

All aboard, nebraskas our next stop.