Remark the cat who hesitates toward you
In the light of the door 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 twists like a crooked pin.
She haunted many a low resort
Near the grimy road of Tottenham Court;
She flitted about the No Man's Land
From The Rising Sun to The Friend at Hand.
And the postman sighed, as he scratched his head:
"You'd really ha '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!
And who would ever suppose that that
Was Grizabella, the Glamour Cat!