The Puppet Singers Of India

The puppet singer, The old puppet singer of India He often used to come And sing the same song From his old stock Making the puppets dance, The wooden puppets looking blackly As for oil polish And he with the hands covered under A wrapper he used to play, String the puppets, Singing a love song forgotten Or a love song so sad Or a folklore daughter forgotten and missing Of yore gone by, The puppet singer, The old puppet singer of India Who during his late days also used To talk of the tougher times Of keeping the olden vanishing art And the difficult times with a poor audience Of the households interested in Or the street people admiring it.