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 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