| A girl in dirty jeans sits on an upended tea-chest, |
| sewing spangles on a glamorous gown. |
| It's never my name that's up in lights; |
| I've never been seen in spangled tights; |
| I plumb no depths and I hit no heights. |
| I'm just a back-stage girl. |
| It isn't for me, the blaze of fame, |
| The rave reviews, the great acclaim. |
| You may think life is pretty tame |
| To be a back-stage girl. |
| But the thrill of standing in the wings |
| As we wait for the play to start; |
| No matter what the evening brings, |
| Ready to do our part. |
| And perhaps we've loved, and perhaps we've fought, |
| But tonight we stand as one. |
| Sharing the tears and the laughs alike |
| Till the words of the play are done. |
| I'm never a part of the big parade, |
| The razzmatazz, the masquerade. |
| When the spotlights shine, I'm in the shade. |
| I'm just a back-stage girl. |
| I'll never appear on the T.V. screen, |
| Or kick my way through a dance routine. |
| I'm hidden away, unheard, unseen. |
| Just a back-stage girl. |
| But deep inside I'm as great a star |
| As any of them out there. |
| Though all my great successes |
| Were done from the prompter's chair. |
| And perhaps I'm smart and perhaps I'm not, |
| But this is the way I'll stay; |
| And you'll find me here as always |
| When the stars have gone their way. |
| So it's never my face the posters show. |
| It's never my voice that steals the show. |
| But where would they be, I'd like to know, |
| Without a back-stage girl? |
| © Leonard Morley 2009 |