I miss my friends tonight, their faces shine for me
The clamor of their singing's like some mad calliope
Still ringing through the Lion's Head until the morning light
Comedians and angels, I miss my friends tonight

With Jameson's or Bushmills, or Trotsky on the rocks;
The Fenian at the barricade, the batter in the box
A song for every season, a smile in every fight
Comedians and angels, I miss my friends tonight

When Dave was in his glory, and singing Brecht and Weill
The Clancys hauled a chantey out and gave us Paddy Doyle
The Mets were either best or worst, and Marx was wrong or right
Comedians and angels, I miss my friends tonight

I wonder where they are now, they could be anywhere;
In Hell or California, or back in Sheridan Square
They left us where they left us, so we put out the light
Comedians and angels, I miss my friends tonight

Each one drained a parting glass, and sailed off to sea
And what a crew of rogues they made in gleeful anarchy
They sang to the horizon a song no pen could write
Comedians and angels, I miss my friends tonight
They sang to the horizon a song no pen could write
Comedians and angels, I miss my friends tonight