Cats - Bustopher Jones

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The next cat to join the proceedings is the hefty "Bustopher 

                 Jones." A large "twenty-five pounder," always clad in his 

                 signature white spats, Bustopher spends his time eating, eating 

                 and eating in one of the many English pubs and clubs that he 

                 frequents. Jennyanydots is quite besauntered with him, and helps

                 sing his praises. He responds, to her great delight, by kissing

                 her hand.



                 SOLO: 

                 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 

                   

                 BUSTOPHER JONES: 

                 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 

                   

                 SOLO: 

                 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 



                 BUSTOPHER JONES: 

                 Or I am a bounder 

                   

                 SOLO: 

                 And he's putting on weight every day 

                   

                 BUSTOPHER JONES: 

                 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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