Bustopher Jones

Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones

In fact, he's remarkably fat

He doesn't haunt pubs, he has eight or nine clubs

For he's the St. James's Street cat!

He's the cat we all greet as he walks down the street

In his coat is fastidious black

No common - place mousers have such well cut trousers

Or such an impeccable black

In the whole of St. James the smartest of names is

The name of this Brummell of cats

And we're all of up proud to be nodded or bowed to

By Bustopher Jones in white spats

My visits are occasional to The Senior Educational

And it is the against the rules

For any one cat to belong both to that

And The Joint Superior Schools



When I'm seen in a hurry there's probably curry

At The Siamese or at The Glutton

When I look full of gloom then I've lunched at The Tomb

On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton



In the whole of St. Jame's the smartest of names is

The name of this Brummel of cats

And we're all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to

By Bustopher Jones in white, Bustopher Jones in white

Bustopher Jones in white spats



So much in this way passes Bustopher's day

At one club or another he's found

It can be no surprise that under our eyes

He has grown unmistakably round



He's a twenty - five pounder Or I am a bounder



And he's putting on weight every day



But I'm so well preserved because I've observed

All my life a routine, and I'd say

I am still in my prime, I shall last out my time

That's the word from the stoutest of cats



It must and it shall be spring in Pall Mall

While Bustopher Jones wears white, Bustopher Jones wears white

Bustopher Jones wears white spats