My name is Balthazar Impresario and you'll find me at the bottom of the page.
I have artist's hands, though I'm a working man, but my craft has been forgotten by the age;
So tonight will be my last night on the stage.
This is my family's trade; my father built this place at the turning of the 20th century.
I have been working here for some 50 years, but the young these days are glued to TV screens, and the old girl is dying on her feet.
Once more to the boards, one more curtain call,
Give the crowd everything they're asking for and more.
Always make 'em laugh, try to make 'em cry,
Always take the stage like it's the last night of your life.
My friends from theater school all thought I was a fool for leaving Shakespeare for the music hall
And now my son's left home, and set out on his own, and the critics think we're quaint, but set to fall, but they've only seen the show from the stores.
Once more to the boards, one more curtain call
Give the crowd everything they're asking for and more.
Always make 'em laugh, try to make 'em cry,
Always take the stage like it's the last night of your life.
And all the things I've seen behind these tattered seams, all the upturned faces with the lamplight in their eyes
And each imperfect turn that flickers as it burns only lasts a moment but for me they'll never die.
We are respected, we're not remembered, we are the ghosts of Vaudeville unnumbered.
We are the fathers of the halls, but we'll never be famous.
We aren't just artists we are something more, we're entertainers
I smooth my thinning hair in a gilded mirror, to try to hide the tell signs of my age.
My name is Balthazar Impresario, and tonight will be my last night on the stage.