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G G/F# Em Em/B A A/E D D/A D G G/F# Em I miss my friends tonight, their faces shine for me. A D A The clamor of their singing's like some mad calliope. D G G/F# Em Em/D Still ringing through the Lion's Head until the morning light, A D 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.
They drained a parting glass then, 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.
(Words and music by Tom Paxton, 2007)
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