Cats

The American Society of Poets have a great FAQ about April as National Poetry Month. Click here for information about the month.

Anyhoodle, off to the poems!

When The Bee was about 3, she became obsessed with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats after watching a PBS special called “Broadway’s Lost Treasures” (I think) which aired during the weekly, quarterly begging fundraising. Since I thought it was cool that my kid liked showtunes (who’s with me?) I dug out my Selections from Cats and we would warble along with the likes Rum Tug Tugger, Mr. Mistofoles, and Grizabella, the Glamour Cat (to name a few).

For Christmas that year The Bee was given a copy of a DVD version of the musical and from the DVD and numerous web searches, I learned that the text of Cats is actually from the poetry of T. S. Eliot from his book Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats.

There are so many pieces to enjoy! I always like The Rum Tug Tugger.

For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it

The Bee always liked Grizabella, the Glamour Cat. I think she was enamored with the idea of being outcast and shunned. It seems Grizabella left her clan of Jellicle Cats when she was hot stuff and upon her fall from grace the other cats would have nothing to do with her. (Dang!)
Unfortunately Grizabella is not from the original work. She is based upon another poem:
“Rhapsody on a Windy Night”.
“Regard that woman (Remark the Cat)
Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress (You see the border of her coat)
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin.”

Her second favorite was Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat.
I think she liked the way he danced and jumped all over the “station.”

Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat
There’s a whisper down the line at 11.39
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 stationmaster’s daughters
They are searching high and low,
Saying “Skimble where is Skimble for unless he’s very nimble
Then the Night Mail just can’t go.”
At 11.42 then the signal’s nearly due
And the passengers are frantic to a man—
Then Skimble will appear and he’ll saunter to the rear:
He’s been busy in the luggage van!
He gives one flash of his glass-green eyes
And the signal goes “All Clear!”
And we’re off at last for the northern part
Of the Northern Hemisphere!
You may say that by and large it is
Skimble who’s in charge
Of the Sleeping Car Express.
From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards
He will 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 establishes control by a regular patrol
And he’d know at once if anything occurred.
He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking
And it’s certain that he doesn’t approve
Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet
When Skimble is about and on the move.
You can play no pranks with Skimbleshanks!
He’s a Cat that cannot be ignored;
So nothing goes wrong on the Northern Mail
When Skimbleshanks is aboard.
Oh, it’s very pleasant when you have found your little den
With your name written up on the door.
And the berth is very neat with a newly folded sheet
And there’s not a speck of dust on the floor.
There is every sort of light-you can make it dark or bright;
There’s a handle that you turn to make a breeze.
There’s a funny little basin you’re supposed to wash your face in
And a crank to shut the window if you sneeze.
Then the guard looks in politely and will ask you very brightly”
Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?”
But Skimble’s just behind him and was ready to remind him,
For Skimble won’t let anything go wrong.And when you creep into your cosy berth
And pull up the counterpane,
You ought to reflect that it’s very nice
To know that you won’t be bothered by mice—
You can leave all that to the Railway Cat,The Cat of the Railway Train!
In the watches of the night he is always fresh and bright;
Every now and then he has a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he’s keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew
That he was walking up and down the station;
You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,
Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.
But you saw him at Dumfries, where he speaks to the police
If there’s anything they ought to know about:
When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait—
For Skimbleshanks will help you to get out!
He gives you 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.”

-Going to the Heaviside Layer,
-r