The Ghost Walks

At the end of the day
There's a man going back to his room
And his final performance
Expected to start very soon
Will be an exclusive view
Well accorded
For those who saw his debut
And applauded

With the turn of a page
He returns to the days of his youth
In his mind, he forgets the difference
'Twixt fiction and truth
The critics compared him to Kean
And his Hamlet
Brought tears to the eyes
Of the Queen at the Alhambra

Was it so long ago when the pеople
Stood up on their chairs?
And the womеn would wait
In the rain for a lock of his hair?
How they would cheer
When the curtain descended
Those were the days
When applause never ended

Autographed programmes
And pictures he always keeps near
And a make-up box given to him
On the last night of Lear
Sir Beerbohm Tree, silk cravat
Irving's type in
And Mistinguette's kiss
Wrapped in satin

At the end of the day
The old man sits alone in his room
And he knows that the company
Assembled before him quite soon
Will see a young man
At the peak of his calling
Turning his face to the storm
Of applause 'round him falling

So he carefully dresses
And waits as the lights
Start to fade
For his favourite audience
Knows that he isn't afraid
And he smiles at a world
That he can't understand
He's drifting away
For the start of the play
Is at hand