Joel: (spoken) Well, guys, looks like its time to pack it all in again.

Crow: Yeah! We are the stuff dreams are made of.

Tom: Oh, that's beautiful, Crow. Shakespeare?

Crow: No. Burma Shave.

Joel: You know guys It always hurts to close it all up, strike the set, wipe off the grease paint, napkin up the blood and entrails and move on to another town

Crow: I smell a song.

(music swells)

Joel: (singing) Tell me where does all the magic go
When the curtain falls to end the show
Do the clowns always cry
When they pack up the paper sky?
When the champagne is being poured
And the lock is on the old stage door
Will there still be a clown in the sky for me?

Tom: (sobbing) Oh Joel!

Joel: (spoken) Don't, worry buddy. There'll be other experiments.

Tom: (sobbing) You really think so, mister ?

Joel: Yeah! Take a verse. It'll cheer you up

(music swells, again)

Tom: (through his tears ) Okay! (as Anthony Newley)
When the harlequin is on the bed
And the whisky haze surrouds your head
William Holden's coming over and he's got a fifth of...

Joel: (spoken, annoyed) Tom! If you don't stop doing your Anthony Newley, I'll throw you against the wall!

Crow: He'll do it, too!

Joel: (singing) Will there still be a clown in the sky?

Tom: Help us out, Crow!

All: (singing) Still be a clown in the sky?

Tom: (spoken) Take it home, Joel

Joel: (singing) Tell me where is that clown in the sky, for... me? (Tom starts to sob again) I love you Tom Servo!

Tom: (sobbing) I love you Joel!

Joel: (to Crow) I love you Crow!

Crow: (angrily) You're not my real father!

Crow: (to Cambot) What do you think?

Dr. F: (making an O.K. sign) It stinks!