ACT II
The Moments of Happiness
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: The Theatre Cat
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's Last Stand
including The Ballad of Billy M'Caw
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 . . ."
Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat
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 station master'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 he gave one flash of his glass-green eyes
And the signal went "All Clear!"
They'd be off at last to 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 travellers 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!
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 found their little den
With their name written up on the door
And the berth was very neat with a newly folded sheet
And not a speck of dust upon the floor
There was every sort of light
You could make it dark or bright
And a button you could turn to make a breeze
And a funny little basin you're 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 your 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 cosy berth and pulled up the counterpane
They all could 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 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 station master 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 would help them to get out!
And he gives 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!"
Macavity: The Mystery Cat
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 would 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
For 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 cases 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 deed took place, Macavity wasn't there!
And they say that all the cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, Rumpelteazer, 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's not there!
We have to find Old Deuteronomy
Mr. Mistoffelees
You ought to ask Mr. Mistoffelees
The original Conjuring Cat
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffelees's conjuring turn
Presto!
And you'll all say:
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
He is quiet and 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 decieving 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
If you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it was merely misplaced
You have seen it one moment, and then it is gone!
But you find it next week lying out on the lawn!
And we all say:
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
His manner is vague and aloof
You would think there was nobody shyer
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up by the fire
And he's sometimes been heard by the fire
When he was about on the roof
(At least we all heard that somebody purred)
Which is uncontestable proof
Of his singular magical powers
And I've known the family to call
Him in from the garden for hours
When he 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. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Oh! Well I never! Was there ever
A cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Ladies and gentlemen
I give you the marvelous
Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Presto!
Memory
Daylight
See the dew on the sunflower
And a rose that is fading
Roses whither away
Like the sunflower
I yearn to turn my face to the dawn
I am waiting for the day . . .
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
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
Every streetlamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And the streetlamp gutters
And soon it will be morning
Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I musn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
The streetlamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning
Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is
Look
A new day has begun
The Journey to the Heaviside Layer
Up, up, up, past the Russell Hotel
Up, up, up, up, to the Heaviside Layer
Up, up, up, past the Russell Hotel
Up, up, up, up, to the Heaviside Layer
Up, up, up, past the Russell Hotel
Up, up, up, up, to the Heaviside Layer
Up, up, up, past the Russell Hotel
Up, up, up, up, to the Heaviside Layer
The Ad-dressing of Cats
You've heard of several kinds of cat
And my opinion now is that
You should need no interpreter
To understand our character
You've learned enough to take the view
That cats are very much like you
You've seen us both at work and games
And learnt about our proper names
Our habits and our habitat
But how would you ad-dress a cat?
So first, your memory I'll jog
And say: A cat is not a dog
Now dogs pretend they like to fight
They often bark, more seldom bite
But yet a dog is, on the whole
What you would call a simple soul
The usual dog about the town
Is much inclined to play the clown
And far from showing too much pride
Is frequently undignified
He's such an easygoing lout
He'll answer any hail or shout
The usual dog about the town
Is inclined to play the clown
Again I must remind you that
A dog's a dog, a cat's a cat
With cats, some say one rule is true
Don't speak 'til you are spoken to
Myself I do not hold with that
I say you should ad-dress a cat
But always bear in mind that he
Resents familiarity
You bow, and taking off your hat
Ad-dress him in this form: "O' cat!"
Before a cat will condescend
To treat you as a trusted friend
Some little token of esteem
Is needed, like a dish of cream
And you might now and then supply
Some caviar, or Strassburg pie
Some potted grouse or salmon paste
He's sure to have his personal taste
And so in time you reach your aim
And call him by his name
So this is this, and that is that
And there's how you ad-dress a cat
A cat's entitled to expect
These evidences of respect
So this is this, and that is that
And there's how you ad-dress a cat
