Bustopher Jones

Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones In fact, he's remarkably fat. He doesn't haunt pubs---He has eight or nine clubs, For he's the St. James’s Street cat! He's the cat we all greet as we walk down the street In his coat of fastidious black: No common-place mousers have such well-cut trousers Or such an impeccable back. In the whole of St. James's the smartest of names is The name of this Brummell of cats And we're all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to By Bustopher Jones in white spats! . My visits are occasional to the senior educational And it is against the rules For any one cat to belong both to that And the Joint Superior Schools. For a similar reason, when game is in season I am found, not at Fox’s, but Blimpy’s; I am frequently seen at the gay Stage and Screen Which is famous for winkles and shrimps. In the season of venison I give my ben’son To the Pothunter’s succulent bones; And just before noon’s not a moment to soon To drop in for a drink at the Drones. When I'm seen in a hurry there's probably curry At the Siamese---or at the Glutton; When I look full of gloom then I've lunched at the tomb On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton. . In the whole of St. James's the smartest of names is The name of this Brummell of cats And we're all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to By Bustopher Jones in white Bustopher Jones in white Bustopher Jones in white spats . So much in this way passes Bustopher's day- At one club or another he's found It can be no surprise that under our eyes He has grown unmistakably round He's a twenty-five pounder (or I am a bounder) And he's putting on weight every day But I'm so well preserved because I've observed All me life a routine and I'd say I am still in me prime I shall last out my time That's the word from this stoutest of Cats It must and it shall be Spring in Pall Mall While Bustopher Jones wears white Bustopher Jones wears white Bustopher Jones wears white spats

Back to Video Lyrics Back to Lyrics Home