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 . . ."
-T.S Eliot.
:')
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