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Home >> CATS - the original London version soundtrack >> Growltiger's Last Stand
Album: CATS - the original London version

Growltiger's Last Stand

Growltiger was a Bravo Cat who travelled on a barge

In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large

From Gravesend up to Oxford he pursued his evil aims

Rejoicing in his title of The Terror of the Thames



His manners and appearance did not calculate to please

His coat was torn and seedy, he was baggy at the knees

One ear was somewhat missing, no need to tell you why

And he scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye



The cottagers of Rotherhithe knew something of his fame

At Hammersmith and Putney people shuddered at his name

They would fortify the henhouse, lock up the silly goose

When the rumour ran along the shore: Growltiger's on the loose!



Woe to the weak canary that fluttered from its cage

Woe to the pampered Pekinese that faced Growltiger's rage

Woe to the bristly bandicoot that lurked on foreign ships

And woe to any cat with whom Growltiger came to grips!



But most to cats of foreign race his hatred had been vowed

To cats of foreign name and race no quarter was allowed

The Persian and the Siamese regarded him with fear

Because it was a Siamese had mauled his missing ear



Now on a peaceful summer night all nature seemed at play

The tender moon was shining bright, the barge at Molsey lay

All in the balmy moonlight it lay rocking on the tide

And Growltiger was disposed to show his sentimental side



Growltiger's bucko mate Grumbskin long since had disappered

For to the Bell at Hampton he had gone to wet his beard

And his bosun Tumblebrutus, he too had stolen away

In the yard behind the Lion he was prowling for his prey



In the forepeak of the vessel Growltiger sat alone

Concentrating his attention on the lady Griddlebone

And his raffish crew were sleeping in their barrels and their bunks

As the Siamese came creeping in their sampans and their junks



Growltiger had no eye or ear for aught but Griddlebone

And the lady seemed enraptured by his manly baritone

Disposed to relaxation and awaiting no surprise

But the moonlight shone reflected from a thousand bright blue eyes



And closer still and closer the sampans circled round

And yet from all the enemy there was not heard a sound

The foe was armed with toasting forks and cruel carving knives

And the lovers sang their last duet in danger of their lives



Oh, how well I remember the Old Bull and Bush

Where we used to go down on a Sattadau night

Where, when anythink happened, it come with a rush

For the boss, Mr. Clark, he was very polite

A very nice house, from basement to garret

A very nice house. Ah, but it was the parret

The parret, the parret named Billy M'Caw

That brought all those folk to the bar

Ah, he was the life of the bar!

Of a Saturday night, we was all feeling bright

And Lily La Rose - the barmaid that was

She'd say, "Billy, Billy M'Caw!

Come give us, come give us a dance on the bar!"

And Billy would dance on the bar

And Billy would dance on the bar

And then we'd feel balmy, in each eye a tear

And emotion would make us all order more beer



Lily, she was a girl what had brains in her head

She wouldn't have nothing, no, not that much said

If it come to an argument or a dispute

She'd settle it offhand with the toe of her boot

Or as likely as not put a fist through your eye

But when we was happy, and just a bit dry

Or when we was thirsty, and just a bit sad

She would rap on the bar with that corkscrew she had

And say "Billy, Billy M'Caw!

Come give us a tune on your pastoral flute!"

And Billy'd strike up on his pastoral flute

And Billy'd strike up on his pastoral flute

And then we'd feel balmy, in each eye a tear

And emotion would make us all order more beer



"Billy, Billy M'Caw!

Come give us a tune on your moley guitar!"

And Billy'd strike up on his moley guitar

And Billy'd strike up on his moley guitar

And then we'd feel balmy, in each eye a tear

And emotion would make us all order more beer



Billy, Billy M'Caw!

Come give us a tune on your moley guitar!

Ah! He was the life of the bar.

Then Gilbert gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian horde

With a frightful burst of fireworks, the Chinks they swarmed aboard

Then Griddlebone she gave a screech, for she was badly skeered

I am sorry to admit it

But she quickly disappeared

She probably escaped with ease

I'm sure she was not drowned

But a serried ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround



The ruthless foe pressed forward in stubborn rank on rank

Growltiger to his vast surprise was forced to walk the plank

He who a hundred victims had driven to that drop

At the end of all his crimes was forced to go kerflip kerflop



Oh there was joy in Wapping when the news flew through the land

At Maidenhead and Henley there was dancing on the Strand

Rats were roasted whole at Brentford and Victoria Dock

And a day of celebrations was commanded in Bangkok



"These modern productions are all very well

But there's nothing to equal, from what I hear tell

That moment of mystery when I made history . . ."

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