[Intro] [Clinking glasses, loud laughter, tavern chatter] [Fast acoustic guitar and banjo strumming] [Spoken: "A tale of a cat and a crown! Listen up, lads!"] [Verse 1: 1189] [Energetic Banjo and Fiddle] I was a kitten when the "Lancer" was young and so wild, The scent of the peat and the earth on my fur was compiled. The ale was as dark and as thick as the tip of my tail, While the world outside shivered in iron and shadow and hail. Then came the Lionheart, Richard, with fire in his stride, To the Third Great Crusade he was bound on a turbulent tide. With a flick of his dagger, he scarred the old beam in the hall, A mark for the ages, a ghost-height for warriors tall! [Chorus] [Anthemic, Rowdy, Everyone singing together, Heavy stomps] Through the dust of the centuries, names lost to time, I am the Cat, and I weave the grand rhyme! By the hearth I am dreaming, with one golden eye, I’ve seen them all pass, and I’ve watched them all die! [Verse 2: 1590] [Accordion enters, playful rhythm] The seasons rolled on, and I grew to a master of stealth, In the "Boar’s Head" I haunted the shadows and dreamt of my wealth. A scribbler would stroke me, a dreamer with ink on his hand, "Shakespeare!" the cook would cry out, "Best pay up or be banned!" On scraps and on parchment he’d conjure up spirits and kings, Of ghosts by the mill and the sorrow that treachery brings. He scratched with his quill while I warmed up his weary old feet, Making magic from dust in the cold of a Warwickshire street! [Chorus] [Louder, Tavern choir shouting along] [Verse 3: 1851] [Fast paced, heavy rhythmic stomping] Then came the steam and the soot and the roar of the mill, The labor was heavy, the winter was biting and chill. My eyes caught the flare of the gaslight on brass-polished rails, While the city was drowning in smoke and in poverty's wails. I paced through the "Saloon" where the masters of industry sat, Past Dickens and Brunel, who tipped their tall silk-covered hats. They plotted their bridges and wrote of the hunger and strife, While I sought the warmth in the cracks of a mechanized life! [Chorus] [Verse 4: 1943] [Tempo slows down slightly, fiddle becomes melancholic] I rubbed ‘gainst the glass that was taped for the bombers above, In the dim-out we huddled for safety and comfort and love. A gramophone hissed with a jazz-tune, so lonely and thin, As a Professor stroked me, his fingers all wrinkled and skin. They spoke of a Book, of a darkness they couldn't yet name, Searching for words for a shadow, a terror, a flame. Then Turing walked by: "Call it Mordor," he said with a sigh, And Tolkien and Lewis watched the Code-breaker's ghost wander by! [Verse 5: Today] [Tempo picks up again, high energy finale] Now there is Wi-Fi and tourists and flashes of light, The world is much faster, and neon has conquered the night. But I’m still the same, ‘neath the beam that the King once had torn, Watching the strangers who look like they’ve only been born. Let them post their "selfies" and vape in the cool evening air, I am the myth in the fur, I am the King of the chair. The poets have vanished like smoke in the English-blue sky, But I keep their shadows... and I never, no never, shall die! [Final Chorus] [Maximum energy, everyone shouting, clinking glasses] [Outro] [Solo Banjo finish] [Spoken: "Another pint for the cat! Hahaha!"] [End]
