I'll sing of the angels, of whom we've been taught,
To think all that's lovely and pure,
Well, they're not all exactly as good as we thought,
There are some naughty angels, I'm sure.
Some say that no angels are seen upon earth,
But no doubt this we all are inclined,
For they're floating about on the day of our birth;
When we open our eyes it's to find,

Refrain: Angels are hovering round
Angels who scarce make a sound,
At you they're peeping, and while you are sleeping
In some angel's arms you are found.
Angels are hovering round
Such dear little fairy-like things
Angels caress you, and kiss you, and bless you
Angels without any wings.

Should a man need refreshment he stands at a bar
While an angel will hand him his drink
And beneath her soft smiles, so entrancing they are
He repeats until minus his chink.
If he goes to the theatre at pantomime time
'Tis the ballet he wishes to see,
For the angels are there in their costumes sublime
And he longs to have one on his knee.

Refrain: Angels are hovering round
Angels across the stage bound
Doing queer dances, and throwing sly glances
Wherever the mashers are found.
Angels are hovering round
Such gay little fairy-like flirts,
Angels in spangles and bright golden bangles
Angels without any skirts.

Should you ramble round London at night-time, you'll see
Lots of angels, but scarcely one saint;
For the saint-like young men have gone home to their tea,
And the angels have donned their war-paint.
There's a paradise not very far from the Strand,
To the mashers best known as 'The Square'
Where it seems that the angels are in great demand
For there's always a crowd of them there.

Refrain: Angels are hovering round
Near Leicester Square they abound,
'Flossies' and 'Lotties' and gay little 'Totties'
There they can always be found.
Angels are hovering round,
Some poor little mortal to fleece;
Angels, so fancy, they all 'parlez Francais'
Angels known to the Police!

If when tired of this world and its wickedness, you
For salvation in Oxford Street seek,
You will find there a Hall, where the Army go through
Their performance each night in the week.
All sorts and conditions of angels are found,
To attend to the wants of young men,
While some business-like angels will pass a plate round
And will pocket a coin now and then.

Refrain: Angels are hovering round
Angels who hope to be crowned,
Seeking and saving young men who are craving
For angles who there can't be found.
Angels are hovering round
Whom no wicked man ever spoiled,
Angels so spiteful, because they're so frightful,
Angels who ought to be boiled!

Written and composed by J.S. Evalo & John Cooke Jun. - 1889
Performed by Arthur Combes (1855-1941)
From Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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