The moments of happiness . . .
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

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, but 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 neighbouring 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 catcalls
But his grandest 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, the theatre is certainly not what it 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 on a telegraph wire
To rescue a child when a house was on fire
And I think that I still can much better than most
Produce blood-curdling noises to bring on the ghost
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, 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 . . ."