Jellicle Cats come out tonight.
Jellicle Cats come one, come all.
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright.
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

Jellicle Cats are black and white.
Jellicle Cats are rather small.
Jellicle Cats are merry and bright.
And pleasant to hear when we caterwaul.

Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces.
Jellicle cats have bright black eyes.
We like to practice our airs and graces
And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise.

Jellicle Cats develop slowly.
Jellicle cats are not too big.
Jellicle cats are roly-poly.
We know how to dance a Gavotte and a jig.
Until the Jellicle Moon appears,
Make our toilette and take our repose.
Jellicles wash behind their ears.
Jellicles dry between their toes.

Jellicle cats are black and white.
Jellicle cats are of moderate size.
Jellicles jump like a jumping jack.
Jellicle cats have moonlit eyes.

We're quiet enough in the morning hours.
We're quiet enough in the afternoon.
Reserving our terpsichorean powers
To dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.

Jellicle cats are black and white.
Jellicle cats (as we said) are small.
If it happens to be a stormy night,
We will practice a caper or two in the hall.

If it happens the sun is shining bright,
You would say we had nothing to do at all.
We are resting and saving ourselves to be right
For the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball.

Jellicle cats come out tonight.
Jellicle cats come one, come all.
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright.
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

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.

Silence . . . 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.

Every streetlamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning.
Someone mutters and the streetlamp gutters
And soon it will be morning.

Memory . . . all alone in the moonlight.
I can smile at the old days.
I was beautiful then.
I remember the time I knew what happiness was.
Let the memory live again . . .

We had the experience, but missed the meaning.
And approach to the meaning restores the experience.
In a different form beyond any meaning,
We can assign to happiness.
The past experience revived in the meaning
Is not the experience of one life only,
But of many generations.
Not forgetting something that is probably quite ineffable.

Moonlight
Turn your face to the moonlight.
Let your memory lead you.
Open up, enter in.
If you find there the meaning of what happiness is,
Then a new life will begin.

Gus is the cat at the theatre door.
His name, as I ought to have told you before
Is really Asparagus, and that's such a fuss to pronounce
That we usually call him just Gus.
His coat's very shabby, he's thin as a rake.
And he suffers from palsy that makes his paw shake.
Yet he was in his youth quite the Smartest of Cats,
But no longer a terror to mice or to rats.

For he isn't the cat that he was in his prime.
Though his name was quite famous, he says, in his time.
And whenever he joins his friends at their club
(Which takes place at the back of the neighboring pub),
He loves to regale them, if someone else pays
With anecdotes drawn from his palmiest days.
For he once was a star of the highest degree.
He has acted with Irving, he's acted with Tree.
And he likes to relate his success on the halls
Where the gallery once gave him seven cat calls,
But his greatest creation as he loves to tell
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.

I have played in my time every possible part.
And I used to know seventy speeches by heart.
I'd extemporize backchat, I knew how to gag.
And I knew how to let the cat out of the bag.
I knew how to act with my back and my tail.
With an hour of rehearsal, I never could fail.
I'd a voice that would soften the hardest of hearts,
Whether I took the lead, or in character parts.
I have sat by the bedside of poor little Nell.
When the curfew was rung then I swung on the bell.
In the pantomime season, I never fell flat.
And I once understudied Dick Whittington's cat,
But my grandest creation, as history will tell.
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.

Then if someone will give him a toothful of gin,
He will tell how he once played a part in East Lynne
At a Shakespeare performance, he once walked on pat
When some actor suggested the need for a cat.

And I say now these kittens, they do not get trained
As we did in the days when Victoria reigned.
They never get drilled in a regular troupe
And they think they are smart just to jump through a hoop.

And he says as he scratches himself with his claws.
Well, theatre is certainly not what is was.
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
As Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.

I once crossed the stage ona telegraph wire
To rescue a child when a house was on fire.
And I once played Growltiger.
Could do it again . . . could do it again . . .
Could do it again . . .

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, it 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 hen house, lock up the silly goose
When the rumor 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 lurks 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.
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.

The forepeak of the vessel, Growltiger stood alone.
Concentrating my attention on the lady Griddlebone.
And my 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 my 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.
Una tepida notte d'estate, allorche la natura
Eranel pieno fulgore, e la resca rugiada
Splendeva al chiar di luna sopra la verzura
Si poteva vedere il galeone ancorato
Oscillare in silenzio nel vento profumato
Dalla marea del naviglio serenamente cullato
In quella tepida notte che c'e dunque di male
Se in tnata poesia anche il pirata divento sentimentale?

Oscillare in silenzio nel vento profumato
Dalla marea do naviglio serenamente cullato
Quella tepida notte
Quella tepida notte
Quella tepida notte.

Then Genghis gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian hordes.
Abandoning their sampans, the chinks they swarmed aboard.
Abandoning their sampans, their pullaways, their junks.
They battened down the hatches on the crew within their bunks.

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
Growltigert 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.

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 in Brentford and Victoria Dock
And a day of celebration 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.

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat,
The cat of the railway train.
There's a whisper down the line at eleven thirty-nine
When the night mail's ready to depart.
Saying, "Skimble, where is Skimble?
Has he gone to hunt the thimble? We must find him or the train can't start!"

All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster's daughters
Would be searching high and low
Saying, "Skimble, where is Skimble? For unless he's very nimble,
Then the night mail just can't go!"
At eleven forty-two with the signal overdue
And the passengers all frantic to a man,
That's when I would appear and I'd saunter to the rear.
I'd been busy in the luggage van!
Then gave one flash of his glass-green eyes
And the signal went "All clear!"
They'd be off at last for the northern part of the Northern Hemisphere!

Skimbleshanks, the railway cat, the cat of the railway train.
You might say that by and large it was me who was in charge
Of the Sleeping Car Express
From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards,
I would supervise them all more or less.
Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces
Of the travelers in the first and the third.
He established control by a regular patrol
And he'd know at once if anything occurred.
He would watch you without winking and he saw what you were thinking
And it's certain that he didn't approve.

Of hilarity and riot so that folk were very quiet
When Skimble was about and on the move.
You could play no pranks with Skimbleshanks's.
He's a cat that couldn't be ignored.
So nothing went wrong on the Northern Mail
When Skimbleshanks was aboard.

It was very pleasant when they'd foud their little den
With their name wrtten up on the door.
And the berth was very neat with a newly folded sheet on
And not a speck of dust on the floor.
There was every sort of light you make it dark or bright
And a button you could turn to make a breeze
And a funny little basin you'er supposed to wash your face in
And a crank to shut the window should you sneeze.
Then the guard looked in politely and would ask you very brightly,
"Do you like morning you morning tea weak or strong?"
But I was just behind him and was ready to remind him.
For Skimble won't let anything go wrong.
When they crept into their cozy berth and pulled the counterpane,
They ought to reflect that it was very nice
To know that they wouldn't be bothered by mice.
They can leave all that to the Railway Cat.
The cat of the railway train.

Skimbleshanks, the railway cat, the cat of the railway train.
In the watches of the night, I was always fresh and bright.
Every now and then I'd have a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of scotch while I was busy keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
They were fast asleep at Crewe
And so they never knew that I was walking up and down the station.
They were sleeping all the while I was busy at Carlisle
Where I met the stationmaster with elation!

They might see me at Dumfries if I summoned the police
If there was anything they ought to know about.
When they got to Gallowgate, there they did not have to wait
For Skimbleshanks will help them to get out.
And he gives you a wave of his long brown tail
Which says, "I'll see you again."
You'll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail,
The cat of the railway train.

You'll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail,
The cat of the railway train.

Macavity!

Macavity's a mystery cat, he's called the Hidden Paw
For he's a master criminal who can defy the law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair
For when they reach the scene of crime, Macavity's not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity.
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare
And when you reach the scene of crime, Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air,
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin.
You'd know him if you saw him for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined in thought, his head is highly domed.
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side with movements like a snake
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity.
He's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square,
But when a crime's discovered then Macavity's not there!

He's outwardly respectable, I know he cheats at cards.
And his footprints are not found in any files of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted or the jewel case is rifled.
Or when the milk is missing or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken and the trellis past repair,
There's the wonder of the thing: Macavity's not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity.
There never was a cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare.
Whatever time the deeed took place, Macavity wasn't there!

And they say that all the cats whose wicked deeds are widely known.
I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone
Are nothing more than agents for the cat who all the time.
Just controls the operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity. He's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square,
But when a crime's discovered then Macavity . . .
Macavity . . .
Macavity . . .
Macavity . . .
When a crime's discovered then Macavity's not there!

Macavity's not there!
We have to find Old Deuteronomy . . .

You ought ask Mr. Mistoffelees,
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffolees Conjuring Turn.

And you'll all say:
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?

He is quiet, he is small, he is black
From the ears to the tip of his tail.
He can creep through the tiniest crack,
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from a pack,
He is equally cunning with dice.
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he's only hunting for mice.

He can play any trick with a cork
Or a spoon and a bit of fish paste.
And if you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it is merely misplaced.
You have seen it one moment and then it is gone!
But you find it next week lying on the lawn.

And we all say:
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?

My manner is vague and aloof.
You would think there was nobody shyer,
But voice has been heard on the roof
When I was curled up by the fire
And have sometimes been heard by the fire
When I was about on the roof.
At least they all heard that somebody purred
Which is uncontestable proof of my singular magical powers
And I've known the family to call me in from the garden for hours
While I was asleep in the hall.

And not long ago, this phenomenal cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!

And we all say:
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
And not long ago, this phenomenal cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!

And we all say:
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?
Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffolees?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the magical Mr. Mistoffolees!