how i miss, how i miss the man below
if i walked barefoot or put down a tray
he was quick to bang his ceiling so
for hitting the roof, there's none i know
who with apoplexic joy could so bang away
how i miss, how i miss the man below
we'd dance each evening, a small do-ci-do
i'd take a step, and yippee! and yay!
he was quick to bang his ceiling so
every night when to bed i'd go
in loud morse code, "good night" he'd say
how i miss, how i miss the man below
i wondered often if he kept a shoe to throw
or a pole by the bed for these moments gay
he was quick to bang his ceiling so
these days i can stomp and dance in a row
no one hits the ceiling, no one says "nay"
how i miss, how i miss the man below
no other soul in these halls i know
at least he "conversed", in his staccato way
he was quick to bang his ceiling so
but i miss, how i miss the man below
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