be a clown, be a clown, be a clown!

that's the advice of the Pirate's mother, in the way of a career choice.
The Pirate is Minelli's. ( Emilia danced all the way home from the cinemateca.)
Why didn't Emilia's mother tell her? Or anybody else for that matter? Caramba! She'd have settled for a set of light feet, 't would have been enough. Anything, but this serious stewpid weight always, the life, you know, the truth, you know, the pain in spain so vain.
Took her ages to even guess, and more ages to shed half the dead luggage. Now she dances crooked, and mostly in her kitchen, but dance she does.