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ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER lyrics : "Bustopher Jones (Cats)"

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 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


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 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 my life a routine and I'd say
I am still in my 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

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