The Clown’s Wife


About my husband, the clown,

what could I say?


On stage, he’s a different person.

Up there he’s a king on a throne,

but at home you should hear him moan.


The moment he walks through that door

without that red nose and them funny clothes,

he seems to have the world on his shoulder.


I do me best to cheer him up, poor soul.

I juggle with eggs, I turn cartwheels,

I tell jokes, I do me latest card trick,

I even have a borrow of his red nose.


But he doesn’t say exactly how he feels,

doesn’t say what’s bothering him inside.

Just sits there saying almost to himself:


‘O life, ah life,

what would I do without this clown of a wife?’


 Johnson Agard

Notes pending...