The same story of the watchman
like that of the gingerbread man.
Krusty could make us all laugh
Krusty was a happy clown.
Krusty was known around town.
He juggled all of his memories
with funny steps his large heart could dance.
I wondered if his pain hung on trees,
‘Krusty sad?’ Who could tell from his stance?
If the clown now found his saddened bubble?
What will make him laugh, who will, what human?
Some say, Krusty found joy in a pill can,
serenading siren, slipping his frown
Krusty oozed out of his skin, pale and brown.