As he watched Lincoln Davenport Chafee assume the role of Bozo in last Tuesday’s Democratic presidential debate, Buddy Cianci, the irascible former mayor of Providence, R.I., reflected back on a distant moment when a young Lincoln turned up at City Hall.

“He came looking for a job … as a garbage collector,” Cianci said yesterday. “No kidding, it’s in my book.”

Buddy doesn’t waste much time wondering how it all might have been different if Chafee had become a garbage man instead of a presidential candidate.

“The question isn’t whether he should get out of the race,” Buddy said. “Of course he should get out of the race.

“What I don’t understand is how the hell he ever wound up on that stage in the first place. I mean, how does he stay in a race for president of the United States with $11,000? It’s crazy. I don’t understand it. Even Conan O’Brien sang that goofy song about ‘… let’s get Lincoln Chafee to 1 percent.’ It’s a joke.

“But then, this kid … well, he’s always been quirky. And besides that, you have to remember that he was born on third base to begin with.”

In other words, growing up in Rhode Island’s version of the Kennedys has its advantages. As the son of John Lester Hubbard Chafee, WWII hero, former Rhode Island governor, secretary of the Navy and U.S. senator, young Lincoln had the luxury of being able to dabble with the idea of collecting trash for Buddy, or even shoeing horses in Montana, before assuming his place in the family business.

When U.S. Sen. John Chafee died in office some 16 years ago, his friend, Rhode Island Gov. Lester Almond, stuck Lincoln, who was then mayor of Warwick, into his dad’s Washington chair.

And last Tuesday night, Buddy Cianci winced, as the rest of the country laughed, watching Lincoln Chafee plead for mercy as CNN’s Anderson Cooper reminded him of the first dumbbell vote he took as senator to repeal the Glass-Steagall Act.

“Anderson, I just came to the Senate after my father died,” Lincoln whined. “I was a mayor of a city (Warwick) in Rhode Island. … I think you’re being a little rough on me.”

The live audience in Vegas groaned. In front of his television, Buddy Cianci found himself feeling far more sorry for dead John Chafee than his live daffy son.

“As I watched that,” Buddy said, “I thought to myself that John, the old man, he must certainly be turning over in his grave. I felt embarrassed for the kid, for his family, but most of all for his father. He was a good guy. I’m glad he wasn’t around to see that.”

Buddy Cianci thinks Lincoln Chafee never anticipated Bernie Sanders and was too full of himself to bow out gracefully.

“The only reason the kid became governor,” Buddy explained, “is because people thought they were voting for the father. He had a 23 percent approval rating as governor. Lee Harvey Oswald could’ve had better numbers.

“All he talked about was how we have to go to the metric system. And he taxed everything right down to your dog getting a haircut. I mean, the record speaks for itself. He couldn’t get himself re-elected as governor, or senator.”

Sadly, Buddy Cianci doesn’t believe that becoming a national joke, or having a couple of staffers and a few thousand in his campaign war chest, are enough to nudge Lincoln Chafee out of the presidential limelight.

“Giving this guy a microphone,” Buddy said, “is like giving a box of matches to a pyromaniac.”