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.