I'm Bustopher Jones
I'm not skin and bones
In fact, I'm remarkably fat
I don't haunt pubs
I have eight or nine clubs
For I'm the St. James Street Cat
I'm the cat they all greet as I walk down the street
In my coat of fastidious black
No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousers
Or such an impeccable back

In the whole of St. James's the smartest of names is
The name of this Brummell of Cats
And we're all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to
By Bustopher Jones in white spats

My visits are occasional to the Senior Educational
And it is against the rules
For any one cat to belong both to that
And the Joint Superior Schools
For a similar reason, when game is in season
I'm found, not at Fox's, but Blimp's
I am frequently seen at the gay Stage and Screen
Which is famous for winkles and shrimps
In the season of venison, I give my ben'son
To the Pothunter's succulent bones
And just before noon's not a moment too soon
To drop in for a drink at the Drones
Thanks, Tugger
When I'm seen in a hurry, there's probably curry
At the Siamese, or at the Glutton
If I look full of gloom, then I've lunched at the Tomb
On cabbage, rice pudding, and mutton
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In the whole of St. James's the smartest of names is
The name of this Brummell 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 I'm found
It can be no surprise that under our eyes
He has grown unmistakably round
I'm a twenty-five pounder, or I am a bounder
And I'm 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 this 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