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 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
Who would ever suppose that that
Was Grizabella the Glamour Cat
Midnight, not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan