She haunted many a low resort   Near the grimy road of Tottenham Court   She flitted about the No-Man's Land   From "The Rising Sun" to "The Friend at Hand"   And the postman sighed as he scratched his head   "You really had thought she ought to be dead   And who would ever suppose that that   Was Grizabella the Glamour Cat!"       Grizabella the Glamour Cat   Grizabella the Glamour Cat   Who would ever suppose that that   Was Grizabella the Glamour Cat       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