Life or The Joke a 65 Years Old Ringmaster From Mansonville Told Me On A Sunny Afternoon At Brome Fair

My nose was crooked for a heartbroken cause
And flattened for talking too loud
My chin was eaten by constant worrying
My head lost its shape for a number of things

There's not a door in the house that doesn't wear my knuckles
Not a rock in the yard that hasn't felt my foot
When the night is a month-old and the house is a tomb
Not a candle can lighten my sorrowful room

Body of wood, breath of smoke
Laughed at the punchlines of this old joke

My ear was bitten for making a sound
My hair is thin from thinking of stars
My jaw won't open to a complete circle
Since I opened my mouth about going to war

There's not a scar on my back that I don't know of
Not a chip in my teeth that doesn't make sense
Not a wrong on me that doesn't feel right
'Cause I chose to be the clown and not the audience

Body of wood, breath of smoke
Laughed at the punchlines of this old joke