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 twist 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 had thought she ought to be dead."
And who would ever suppose that?
Was Grizabella, the glamour cat?
Grizabella, the glamour cat.
Grizabella, the glamour cat.
And who would ever suppose that
Was Grizabella, the glamour cat?
