|
|
Remark the Cat who hesitates before you
In the light of the dawn, which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her coat is torn
And stained with sand.
And you see the corner of her eye twist
Like a crooked pin.
She haunted many a low resort,
Near the grimy roads of Tottenham Court.
She flitted about the no-man's land,
Near the Rising Sun and the Friend at Hand.
And the postman sighed,
As he scratched his head,
"You'd really have thought
She'd ought to be dead."
And who would ever suppose that
That was Grizabella the Glamour Cat?
Grizabella the Glamour Cat...
Grizabella the Glamour Cat...
Who would ever suppose that
That was Grizabella the Glamour Cat?