The old magician takes the stage. (His act does not improve with age). Observe the shabby hat and gloves. The tired act that no-one loves. There was a time he produced doves. A mirror and a puff of smoke. His mysteries are now a joke. His poor assistant black and blue. She's tired of being sawn in two. She's tired of being sawn in two. Hidden trapdoor velvet cape. Still from death there's no escape. Words of sympathy and tact. Only underline the fact. Death is a lousy disappearing act. Lord have mercy and be kind. When our faculties unwind. Overlook the hat and gloves. The tired act that no-one loves. There was a time we produced doves. The old magician takes the stage. With sleight of hand he? ll disengage. As dignified as you? ll allow. He? ll take his last his final bow. He? s lost all his illusions now