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3:13 | 
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
Muscled, black with steel-green eye
swishing through the rye grass with thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie. Tail balancing at half-mast. ...And the mouse police never sleeps --- lying in the cherry tree. Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry. Look out, little furry folk! He's the all-night working cat. Eats but one in every ten --- leaves the others on the mat. ...And the mouse police never sleeps --- waiting by the cellar door. Window-box town crier; birth and death registrar. With claws that rake a furrow red --- licensed to mutilate. From warm milk on a lazy day to dawn patrol on hungry hate. ...No, the mouse police never sleeps --- climbing on the ivy. Windy roof-top weathercock. Warm-blooded night on a cold tile. |
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from Jethro Tull - Bursting Out [live] (1978)
My first and last time with you
And we had some fun. Went walking through the trees, yeah! And then I kissed you once. Oh I want to see you soon But I wonder how. It was a new day yesterday But it's an old day now. Spent a long time looking For a game to play. My luck should be so bad now To turn out this way. Oh I had to leave today Just when I thought I'd found you. It was a new day yesterday But it's an old day now. |
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21:35 | 
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| from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - A Passion Play (1973) | |||||
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21:36 |
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| from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - A Passion Play (1973) | |||||
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23:32 |
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| from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - A Passion Play (1973) | |||||
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| from Jethro Tull - A Passion Play (1973) | |||||
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3:37 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
A small cigar can change the world
I know, I've done it frequently at parties Where I've won all the guests' attention With my generosity and suave gentlemanly bearing A little flat tin case is all you need Breast-pocket conversation opener And one of those ciggie lighters that look rather good You can throw away when empty Must be declared a great success My small cigars all vanish within minutes Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit A nearby tobacconist To replenish my supply of small cigars And make the party swing again I know my clothes seem shabby And don't fit this Hampstead soiree Where unread copies of Rolling Stone Well-thumbed Playboys Decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves If you ask me they're on their way To upper-middle-class oblivion The stupid twits, they roll their only One cigarette between them My small cigar's redundant now In the haze of smoking pleasure Call it a day Get the hell away Go down the cafe For a cup of real tea By the tube station, there's a drunk old fool Who sells papers in the rush hour I hand to him ten small cigars He smiles, says, Son, God bless you A small cigar Has changed his world, my friend A small cigar Has changed the world again A small cigar . . . |
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3:26 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
I'll make love to you in all good places -
Under black mountains, in open spaces. By deep brown rivers that slither darkly, Through far marches where the blue hare races. Come with me to the Winged Isle - Northern father's western child. Where the dance of ages is playing still Through far marches of acres wild. I'll make love to you in narrow side streets, With shuttered windows, and crumbling chimneys. Come with me to the weary town - Discos silent under tiles That slide from roof-tops, scatter softly On concrete marches of acres wild. By red bricks pointed with cement fingers Flaking damply from sagging shoulders. Come with me to the Winged Isle - Northern father's western child. Where the dance of ages is playing still Through far marches of acres wild |
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6:31 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
Sitting on a park bench
Eyeing little girls with bad intent Snot running down his nose Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes Hey, Aqualung Drying in the cold sun Watching as the frilly panties run Hey, Aqualung Feeling like a dead duck Spitting out pieces of his broken luck Whoa, Aqualung Sun streaking cold An old man wandering lonely Taking time the only way he knows Leg hurting bad As he bends to pick a dog-end He goes down to the bog and warms his feet Feeling alone The army's up the road Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea Aqualung, my friend Don't you start away uneasy You poor old sod, you see, it's only me Do you still remember December's foggy freeze When the ice that Clings onto your beard was Screaming agony? Hey! And you snatch your rattling last breaths With deep-sea diver sounds And the flowers bloom like Madness in the spring Sun streaking cold An old man wandering lonely Taking time the only way he knows Leg hurting bad As he bends to pick a dog-end He goes down to the bog and warms his feet Ohh Feeling alone The army's up the road Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea Aqualung, my friend Don't you start away uneasy You poor old sod, you see, it's only me Ohh Dee dee dee dee dee... Aqualung, my friend Don't you start away uneasy You poor old sod, you see, it's only me Sitting on a park bench Eyeing little girls with bad intent Snot running down his nose Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes Hey, Aqualung Drying in the cold sun Watching as the frilly panties run Hey, Aqualung Feeling like a dead duck Spitting out pieces of his broken luck Hey, Aqualung Whoa, Aqualung |
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4:26 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
In and out of the front door,
Ran twelve back-door angels. Their hair was a golden-brown They didn't see me wink my eye. 'Tis said they put we men to sleep With just a whisper, And touch the heads of dying dogs And make them linger. They carry their candles high And they light the dark hours. And sweep all the country clean With pressed and scented wild-flowers. They grow all their roses red, And paint our skies blue Drop one penny in every second bowl Make half the beggars lose, Why do the faithful have such a will To believe in something? And call it the name they choose, Having chosen nothing. Think I'll sit down and invent some fool Some Grand Court Jester. And next time the die is cast, He'll throw a six or two. In and out of the back-door ran One front-door angel, Her hair was a golden-brown She smiled and I think she winked her eye. |
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2:12 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
Yes'n she's bad-eyed and she's loveless.
A young man's fancy and an old man's dream. I'm self raising and I flower in her company. Give me no sugar without her cream. She's a warm fart at Christmas. She's a breath of champagne on sparkling night. Yes'n she's bad-eyed and she's loveless. Turns other women to envious green. Yes'n she's bad-eyed and she's loveless. She's a young man's vision in my old man's dream. |
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16:39 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel. In the underpass, the blind man stands. With cold flute hands. Symphony match-seller, breath out of time. You can call me on another line. Indian restaurants that curry my brain. Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station stand. With cold print hands. Symphony word-player, I'll be your headline. If you catch me another time. Didn't make her --- with my Baker Street Ruse. Couldn't shake her --- with my Baker Street Bruise. Like to take her --- but I'm just a Baker Street Muse. Ale-spew, puddle-brew --- boys, throw it up clean. Coke and Bacardi colours them green. From the typing pool goes the mini-skirted princess with great finesse. Fertile earth-mother, your burial mound is fifty feet down in the Baker Street underground. (What the hell!) Walking down the gutter thinking, ``How the hell am I today?'' Well, I didn't really ask you but thanks all the same. |
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3:34 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
The mist rolls off the beaches:
the train rolls into the station. Uh-Huh! Weekend happiness seekers pent-up saturation. Uh-Huh! Well, we don't mean anyone any harm, we weren't on the Glasgow train. See you at the Pleasure Beach: roller-coasting heroes. Uh-Huh! Big Dipper riding we'll give the local lads a hiding if they keep us from the ladies hanging out in the penny arcades. Shaking up the Tower Ballroom throwing up in the bathroom. Landlady's in the backroom I'm the Big Dipper it's the weekend rage. Rich widowed landlady give me your spare front door key Uh-Huh! If you're 39 or over, I'll make love to you next Thursday Uh-Huh! I may stay over for a week or two drop a postcard to my mum. I'll see you at the waltzer we'll go big-dipping daily. Uh-Huh! |
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6:52 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
Come, let me play with you, Black Satin Dancer.
In all your giving, given is the answer. Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter than the brightest flower in my garden. Begging your pardon - shedding right unreason. Over sensation fly the fleeting seasons. Thin wind whispering on broken mandolin. Bending the minutes - the hours ever turning on that old gold story of mercy. Desperate breathing. Tongue nipple-teasing. Your fast river flowing - your Northern fire fed. Come, Black Satin Dancer, come softly to bed. Black Satin Dancer, given is the answer. Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter than the brightest flower in my garden. Come, let me play with you; Come, Black Satin Dancer. In all your giving, given is the answer. Your fast river flowing - your Northern fire fed. Come, Black Satin Dancer, come softly to bed. |
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3:57 |
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| from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971) | |||||
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3:40 |
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| from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978) | |||||
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3:36 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Walking through forests of palm tree apartments
Scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents Down by the waterhole, drunk every Friday Eating their nuts, saving their raisins for Sunday Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows They're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows Well, let's bungle in the jungle Well, that's all right by me, yes Well, I'm a tiger when I want love And I'm a snake if we disagree Just say a word and the boys will be right there With claws at your back to send a chill through the night air Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder? Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder I'll write on your tombstone, I thank you for dinner This game that we animals play is a winner Well, let's bungle in the jungle Well, that's all right by me, yes I'm a tiger when I want love I'm a snake if we disagree The rivers are full of crocodile nasties And he who made kittens put snakes in the grass, he's A lover of life, but a player of pawns Yes, the king on his sunset lies waiting for dawn To light up his jungle as play is resumed The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune Well, let's bungle in the jungle Well, that's all right by me, yes I'm a tiger when I want love And I'm a snake when we disagree Yes, let's bungle in the jungle Well, that's all right by me, yes Well, I'm a tiger when I want love I'm a snake when we disagree Well, let's bungle in the jungle Well, that's all right by me, yes I'm a tiger when I want love |
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1:23 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
On Preston Platform
Do your soft shoe shuffle dance Brush away the cigarette ash That's falling down your pants And then you sadly wonder Does the nurse treat your old man The way she should? She made you tea Asked for your autograph-- What a laugh |
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4:20 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
And ride with us young bonny lass - with the angels of the night.
Crack wind clatter - flesh rein bite on an out-size unicorn. Rough-shod winging sky blue flight on a Cold Wind to Valhalla. And join with us please - Valkyrie maidens cry above the Cold Wind to Valhalla. Break fast with the Gods. Night angels serve with ice-bound majesty. Frozen flaking fish raw nerve - in a cup of silver liquid fire. Moon jet brave beam split ceiling swerve and light the old Valhalla. Come join with us please - Valkyrie maidens cry above the Cold Wind to Valhalla. The heroes rest upon the sighs of Thor's trusty hand-maidens. Midnight lonely whisper cries, "We're getting a bit short on heroes lately." Sword snap fright white pale good-byes in the desolation of Valhalla. And join with us please - Valkyrie maidens ride empty-handed on the Cold Wind to Valhalla. |
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4:19 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
And ride with us young bonny lass ---
with the angels of the night. Crack wind clatter --- flesh rein bite on an out-size unicorn. Rough-shod winging sky blue flight on a cold wind to Valhalla. And join with us please --- Valkyrie maidens cry above the cold wind to Valhalla. Break fast with the gods. Night angels serve with ice-bound majesty. Frozen flaking fish raw nerve --- in a cup of silver liquid fire. Moon jet brave beam split ceiling swerve and light the old Valhalla. Come join with us please --- Valkyrie maidens cry above the cold wind to Valhalla. The heroes rest upon the sighs of Thor's trusty hand maidens. Midnight lonely whisper cries, We're getting a bit short on heroes lately. Sword snap fright white pale goodbyes in the desolation of Valhalla. And join with us please --- Valkyrie maidens ride empty-handed on the cold wind to Valhalla. |
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4:45 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
Just a little touch of make-up; just a little touch of bull;
just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul; you can wear a gold Piaget on your Semaphore wrist; you can dance the old adage with a dapper new twist. And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium, live and die upon your cross of platinum. Join the crazed institution of the stars. Be the man that you think (know) you really are. Crawl inside your major triad, curl up and laugh as your agent scores another front page photograph. Is it them or is it you throwing dice inside the loo awaiting someone else to pull the chain. Well grab the old bog-handle, hold your breath and light a candle. Clear your throat and pray for rain to irrigate the corridors that echo in your brain filled with empty nothingness, empty hunger pains. And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium, live and die upon your cross of platinum. Join the crazed institution of the stars. Be the man that you think (know) you really are. |
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4:09 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief
If he had a rich man in his hand? And who would steal the candy from a laughing baby's mouth If he could take it from the money man? Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again She signs no contract, but she always plays the game She dines in Hampstead village on expense accounted gruel And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school Laughing in the playground, gets no kicks from little boys Would rather make it with a letching grey Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung Who watches through the railings as they play Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along She's a poor man's rich girl and she'll do it for a song. She's a rich man stealer, but her favour's good and strong: She's the Robin Hood of Highgate, helps the poor man get along. Laughing in the playground, gets no kicks from little boys Would rather make it with a letching grey Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung Who watches through the railings as they play Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again She signs no contract, but she always plays the game She dines in Hampstead village on expense accounted gruel And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school Cross-eyed Mary Oh, Mary Oh, cross-eyed Mary |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Walking on air
Shoulder and head above you Down in the street Black canyons walking through Hooded sad eyes Fixed on your shuffle shoes Life is a clue in your crossword Typewriter turk Telephone terror takes Time to wind down Push-button finger shakes City of dreams Back to your quiet nightmare Your life is a clue in the crossword Working to rule in your own time Drag yourself home to your star sign page Staying awake on cold yesterday's steak and warm beer Ladder of string Climbing to sweet success Homework aside Your brain on the train to test Pick up the news You left on the seat beside you Your life is a clue in the crossword Your life is a clue in the crossword Your life is a clue in the crossword |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Walking on air
Shoulder and head above you Down in the street Black canyons walking through Hooded sad eyes Fixed on your shuffle shoes Life is a clue in your crossword Typewriter turk Telephone terror takes Time to wind down Push-button finger shakes City of dreams Back to your quiet nightmare Your life is a clue in the crossword Working to rule in your own time Drag yourself home to your star sign page Staying awake on cold yesterday's steak and warm beer Ladder of string Climbing to sweet success Homework aside Your brain on the train to test Pick up the news You left on the seat beside you Your life is a clue in the crossword Your life is a clue in the crossword Your life is a clue in the crossword |
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4:34 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
May I make my fond excuses for the late-ness of the hour;
But we accept your invitation, and would bring you Beltane's flower. For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track. And those who ancient lines did ley will heed this song that calls them back. Pass the word and pass the lady and pass the plate to all who hunger. And pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder. And pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder. Ask the Green Man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red. Ask the old grey standing stones who show the sun his way to bed. Question all as to their ways, and learn the secrets that they hold. Walk the lines of Nature's palm, crossed with silver and with gold. Pass the cup and pass the lady and pass the plate to all who hunger. And pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder. And pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder. Join in black December's sadness, lie in August's welcome corn. Stir the cup that's ever filling with the blood of all that's born. But the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track. And those who ancient lines did ley will heed this song that calls them back. Pass the word and pass the lady and pass the plate to all who hunger. And pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder. And pass the Cup of Crimson Wonder. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Darlings are you ready for the long winter's fall?
said the lady in her parlor said the butler in the hall. Is there time for another? cried the drunkard in his sleep. Not likely said the little child. What's done the Lord can keep. And the vicar stands a-praying. And the television dies as the white dot flickers and is gone and no-one stops to cry. The big jet rumbles over runway miles that scar the patchwork green where slick tycoons and rich buffoons have opened up the seam of golden nights and champagne flights ad-man overkill and in the haze consumer crazed we take the sugar pill. Jagged fires mark the picket lines the politicians weep and mealy-mouthed through corridors of power on tip-toe creep. Come and see bureaucracy make its final heave and let the new disorder through while senses take their leave. Families screaming line the streets and put the windows through in corner shops where keepers kept the country's life-blood blue. Take their pick and try the trick with loaves and fishes shared and the vicar shouts as the lights go out, and no-one really cares. Dark Ages shaking the dead Closed pages better not read Cold rages burn in your head. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Clear light on a slick palm
as I mis-deal the day Slip the night from a shaved pack make a marked card play Call twilight hours down from a heaven home high above the highest bidder for the good Lord's throne In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill --- oh, and we'll watch the old gods play by Dun Ringill We'll wait in stone circles 'til the force comes through --- lines joint in faint discord and the stormwatch brews a concert of kings as the white sea snaps at the heels of a soft prayer whispered In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill --- oh, and I'll take you quickly by Dun Ringill. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Clear light on a slick palm
as I mis-deal the day Slip the night from a shaved pack make a marked card play Call twilight hours down from a heaven home high above the highest bidder for the good Lord's throne In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill --- oh, and we'll watch the old gods play by Dun Ringill We'll wait in stone circles 'til the force comes through --- lines joint in faint discord and the stormwatch brews a concert of kings as the white sea snaps at the heels of a soft prayer whispered In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill --- oh, and I'll take you quickly by Dun Ringill. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Clear light on a slick palm
as I mis-deal the day Slip the night from a shaved pack make a marked card play Call twilight hours down from a heaven home high above the highest bidder for the good Lord's throne In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill --- oh, and we'll watch the old gods play by Dun Ringill We'll wait in stone circles 'til the force comes through --- lines joint in faint discord and the stormwatch brews a concert of kings as the white sea snaps at the heels of a soft prayer whispered In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill --- oh, and I'll take you quickly by Dun Ringill. |
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| from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979) | |||||
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| from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979) | |||||
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| from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979) | |||||
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13:58 |
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| from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971) | |||||
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2:56 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
Don't want to be a fat man
People would think that I was just good fun, man Would rather be a thin man I am so glad to go on being one, man Too much to carry around with you No chance of finding a woman, who Will love you in the morning and all the nighttime too Don't want to be a fat man Have not the patience to ignore all that Hate to admit to myself I thought my problems came from being fat Won't waste my time feeling sorry for him I've seen the other side to being thin Roll us both down a mountain and I'm sure the fat man would win |
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2:27 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
I believe in fires at midnight, when the dogs have all been fed.
A golden toddy on the mantle; a broken gun beneath the bed. Silken mist outside the window - Frogs and newts slip in the dark. Too much hurry ruins a body: I'll sit easy; fan the spark. Kindled by the dying embers, of another working day. Go upstairs: take off your make-up - Fold your clothes neatly away. Me, I'll sit and write this love song As I all too seldom do - Build a little fire this midnight. It's good to be back home with you. Kindled by the dying embers, of another working day. Go upstairs: take off your make-up - Fold your clothes neatly away. Me, I'll sit and write this love song As I all too seldom do - Build a little fire this midnight. It's good to be back home with you. |
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| from Jethro Tull - Bursting Out [live] (1978) | |||||
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Old lady with a barrow; life near ending
Standing by the harbour wall; warm wishes sending children on the cold sea swell --- not fishers of men --- gone to chase away the last herring: come empty home again. So come all you lovers of the good life on your supermarket run --- Set a sail of your own devising and be there when the Dutchman comes. Wee girl in a straw hat: from far east warring Sad cargo of an old ship: young bodies whoring Slow ocean hobo --- ports closed to her crew No hope of immigration --- keep on passing through. So come all you lovers of the good life your children playing in the sun --- set a sympathetic flag a-flying and be there when the Dutchman comes. Death grinning like a scarecrow --- Flying Dutchman Seagull pilots flown from nowhere --- try and touch one as she slips in on the full tide and the harbour-master yells All hands vanished with the captain --- no one left, the tale to tell. So come all you lovers of the good life Look around you, can you see? Staring ghostly in the mirror --- it's the Dutchman you will be ..floating slowly out to sea in a misty misery. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Old lady with a barrow; life near ending
Standing by the harbour wall; warm wishes sending children on the cold sea swell --- not fishers of men --- gone to chase away the last herring: come empty home again. So come all you lovers of the good life on your supermarket run --- Set a sail of your own devising and be there when the Dutchman comes. Wee girl in a straw hat: from far east warring Sad cargo of an old ship: young bodies whoring Slow ocean hobo --- ports closed to her crew No hope of immigration --- keep on passing through. So come all you lovers of the good life your children playing in the sun --- set a sympathetic flag a-flying and be there when the Dutchman comes. Death grinning like a scarecrow --- Flying Dutchman Seagull pilots flown from nowhere --- try and touch one as she slips in on the full tide and the harbour-master yells All hands vanished with the captain --- no one left, the tale to tell. So come all you lovers of the good life Look around you, can you see? Staring ghostly in the mirror --- it's the Dutchman you will be ..floating slowly out to sea in a misty misery. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Old lady with a barrow; life near ending
Standing by the harbour wall; warm wishes sending children on the cold sea swell --- not fishers of men --- gone to chase away the last herring: come empty home again. So come all you lovers of the good life on your supermarket run --- Set a sail of your own devising and be there when the Dutchman comes. Wee girl in a straw hat: from far east warring Sad cargo of an old ship: young bodies whoring Slow ocean hobo --- ports closed to her crew No hope of immigration --- keep on passing through. So come all you lovers of the good life your children playing in the sun --- set a sympathetic flag a-flying and be there when the Dutchman comes. Death grinning like a scarecrow --- Flying Dutchman Seagull pilots flown from nowhere --- try and touch one as she slips in on the full tide and the harbour-master yells All hands vanished with the captain --- no one left, the tale to tell. So come all you lovers of the good life Look around you, can you see? Staring ghostly in the mirror --- it's the Dutchman you will be ..floating slowly out to sea in a misty misery. |
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4:06 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you.
You won't remember the long nights; coffee bars; black tights and white thighs in shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world made of dummies (with no mummies or daddies to reject them). When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I. And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture --- sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker, Jack Kerouac, Ren'e Magritte, to name a few of the heroes who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to go on living without them. Old queers with young faces --- who remember your name, though you're a dead beat with tired feet; two ends that don't meet. To a dead beat from an old greaser. Think you must have me all wrong. I didn't care, friend. I wasn't there, friend, If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again. |
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3:33 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Rise up all you fine young ladies and take arms for the show.
Oh, we'll put your name up in lights, put you down on Glory Row. Would you be the star of ages to light your own way at night? Might be a former beauty queen with your high smile stuck on so tightly. They come and they go down on Glory Row. It's the same old story --- yes, it the same old show. Well, hello all you gentlemen, I fear I'm a lot like you. We're wearing the same school tie but a different pair of shoes. How did you get to be who you are? Will your children share the blame? Is it really worth the time it takes to carve your name on Glory Row? Down on Glory Row. It's the same old story --- yes, it the same old show. |
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0:50 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
Hello sun.
Hello bird. Hello my lady. Hello breakfast. May I buy you again tomorrow? |
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8:59 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough Salt on a deep chest seasoning Last of the line at an honest day's toil Turning the deep sod under Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone Flies at the nostrils plunder. The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie with the Shire on his feathers floating Hauling soft timber into the dusk to bed on a warm straw coating. Heavy Horses, move the land under me Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free Now you're down to the few And there's no work to do The tractor's on its way. Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed to keep the old line going. And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood behind the young trees growing To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth, and your eighteen hands at the shoulder And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry and the nights are seen to draw colder They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power your noble grace and your bearing And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls in the wake of the deep plough, sharing. Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill Up into the cold wind facing In stiff battle harness, chained to the world Against the low sun racing Bring me a wheel of oaken wood A rein of polished leather A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather. Bring a song for the evening Clean brass to flash the dawn across these acres glistening like dew on a carpet lawn In these dark towns folk lie sleeping as the heavy horses thunder by to wake the dying city with the living horseman's cry At once the old hands quicken --- bring pick and wisp and curry comb --- thrill to the sound of all the heavy horses coming home. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
As the dawn sun breaks over sleepy gardens
I'll be here to do all things to comfort you. And though I've been away left you alone this way why don't you come awake and let your first smile take me home. The shadows in the park were longer yesterday and Lady Luck stood still, waiting for the kill. And on a jumbo ride over seas grey, deep and wide I flew for heaven's sake and let the angels take me home. Down steep and narrow lanes I see the chimneys smoking above the golden fields ... know what the robin feels in his summer jamboree. All elements agree in sweet and stormy blend --- midwife to winds that send me home. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
As the dawn sun breaks over sleepy gardens
I'll be here to do all things to comfort you. And though I've been away left you alone this way why don't you come awake and let your first smile take me home. The shadows in the park were longer yesterday and Lady Luck stood still, waiting for the kill. And on a jumbo ride over seas grey, deep and wide I flew for heaven's sake and let the angels take me home. Down steep and narrow lanes I see the chimneys smoking above the golden fields ... know what the robin feels in his summer jamboree. All elements agree in sweet and stormy blend --- midwife to winds that send me home. |
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5:13 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
One day I walked the road and crossed a field to go by where the
hounds ran hard. And on the master raced: behind the hunters chased to where the path was barred. One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear. I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared. Crop-handle carved in bone; sat high upon a throne of finest English leather. The Queen of all the Pack: this joker raised his hat and talked about the weather. All should be warned about this high-born Hunting Girl. She took this simple man's downfall in hand; I raised the flag that she unfurled. Boot leather flashing and spur-necks the size of my thumb. This high-born hunter had tastes as strange as they come. Unbridled passion: I took the bit in my teeth. Her standing over: me on my knees underneath. My lady, be discrete. I must get to my feet and go back to the farm. Whilst I appreciate you are no deviate, I might come to some harm. I'm not inclined to acts refined, if that's how it goes. Oh, high-born Hunting Girl, I'm just a normal low-born so-and-so. |
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from Jethro Tull - Bursting Out [live] (1978)
One day I walked the road
And crossed a field to go By where the hounds ran hard. And on the master raced, Behind the hunters chased To where the path was barred. One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear. I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared. Crop handle carved in bone, Sat high upon a throne Of finest English leather. The queen of all the pack, This joker raised his hat And talked about the weather. All should be warned about this high born Hunting Girl. She took this simple man's downfall in hand, I raised the flag that she unfurled. Boot leather flashing and spurnecks the size of my thumb. This highborn hunter had tastes as strange as they come. Unbridled passion, I took the bit in my teeth. Her standing over, me on my knees underneath, underneath. My lady, be discrete, I must get to my feet And go back to the farm. Whilst I appreciate You are no deviate, I might come to some harm. I'm not inclined to acts refined, if that's how it goes. Oh, high born Hunting Girl, I'm just a normal low born so and so. |
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3:18 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
Our Father high in heaven, smile down upon your son
Who is busy with his money games - his women and his gun Oh Jesus save me And the unsung western hero, he killed an Indian or three And then he made his name in Hollywood to set the white man free Oh Jesus save me If Jesus saves, well he better save himself From the gory glory seekers who use his name in death Oh Jesus save me If Jesus saves, well he better save himself From the gory glory seekers who use his name in death Oh Jesus save me Well I saw him in the city, and on the mountains of the moon His cross was rather bloody, and he could hardly roll his stone Oh Jesus save me |
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13:54 |
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| from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971) | |||||
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16:28 |
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from Jethro Tull - Bursting Out [live] (1978)
Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green?
With his long tail hanging down. He quietly sits under every tree --- in the folds of his velvet gown. He drinks from the empty acorn cup the dew that dawn sweetly bestows. And taps his cane upon the ground --- signals the snowdrops it's time to grow. It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green --- no place to dance, no time for song. He wears the colours of the summer soldier --- carries the green flag all the winter long. Jack, do you never sleep --- does the green still run deep in your heart? Or will these changing times, motorways, powerlines, keep us apart? Well, I don't think so --- I saw some grass growing through the pavements today. The rowan, the oak and the holly tree are the charges left for you to groom. Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green. Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night. And we are the berries on the holly tree. Oh, the mistlethrush is coming. Jack, put out the light. |
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2:31 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
He sits quietly under every tree
In the folds of his velvet gown. He drinks from the empty acorn cup. The dew that dawn sweetly bestows. And taps his cane upon the ground - Signals the snow drops, it's time to grow It's no fun being Jack-in-the-Green: No place to dance, no time for song. He wears the colours of the summer soldier; And carries the green flag all the winter long. Jack do you never sleep - does the green still run deep in your heart? Or will these changing times, motorways, powerlines, keep us apart? Well, I don't think so. I saw some grass growing through the pavements today. The Rowan, the Oak and the Holly tree Are the charges left for him to groom. Each blade of grass whispers, "Jack-in-the-Green." "Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night." And - "We are the berries on the Holly tree: Oh, the Mistle Thrush is coming. Jack, put out the light!" |
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3:58 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
Spine-tingling railway sleepers ---
Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm Orange beams divide the darkness Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm. Sliding through Victorian tunnels where green moss oozes from the pores. Dull echoes from the wet embankments Battlefield allotments. Fresh open sores. In late night commuter madness Double-locked black briefcase on the floor like a faithful dog with master sleeping in the draught beside the carriage door. To each Journeyman his own home-coming Cold supper nearing with each station stop Frosty flakes on empty platforms Fireside slippers waiting. Flip. Flop. Journeyman night-tripping on the late fantasic Too late to stop for tea at Gerard's Cross and hear the soft shoes on the footbridge shuffle as the wheels turn biting on the midnight frost. On the late commuter special Carriage lights that flicker, fade and die Howling into hollow blackness Dusky diesel shudders in full cry. Down redundant morning papers Abandon crosswords with a cough Stationmaster in his wisdom told the guard to turn the heating off. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
There was a warm wind with the high tide
On the south of the hill When a young girl went a-walking And I followed with a will Good day to you, my fine young lady With your lips so sweetly full May I help you comb your long hair Sweep it from that brow so cool Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Well, I'm a man when I'm feeling The urge to step ashore So I may charm you, not alarm you Tell you all fine things and more Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Say goodbye to all your dear kin For they hate to see you go In your young prime to this place of mine In the still loch far below Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
There was a warm wind with the high tide
On the south of the hill When a young girl went a-walking And I followed with a will Good day to you, my fine young lady With your lips so sweetly full May I help you comb your long hair Sweep it from that brow so cool Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Well, I'm a man when I'm feeling The urge to step ashore So I may charm you, not alarm you Tell you all fine things and more Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Say goodbye to all your dear kin For they hate to see you go In your young prime to this place of mine In the still loch far below Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep If you don't ride with me while the devil's free I'll ride with somebody else Up, ride with the kelpie I'll steal your soul to the deep |
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3:16 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Ladies of leisure,
With their eyes on the back roads. All looking for strangers, To whom they extend welcomes With a smile and a glimpse of Pink knees and elbows; Of satin and velvet Good ladies, good fortune. Ladies. They sing of their heroes: Of solitary soldiers Invested in good health And manner most charming. Whose favors are numbered (none the less well intended) By hours in a minute; By those ladies who bless them. Ladies. |
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2:46 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
I'll see you at the weighing in
When your life's sum-total's made And you set your wealth in godly deeds Against the sins you've laid So place your final burden On your hard-pressed next of kin Send the chamber pot back down the line To be filled up again. Take your mind off your election And try to get it straight And don't pretend perfection You'll be crucified too late And he'll say “you really should make the deal” As he offers round the hat. Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean I’ll thank you all for that And as you join the good ship earth And you mingle with the dust Be sure to leave your underpants With someone you can trust And the hard-headed social worker Who bathes his hands in blood Will welcome you with arms held high And cover you with mud And he'll say “you really should make the deal” As he offers round the hat. Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean Well, I’ll thank you all for that |
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3:10 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
The bomb's in the china. The fat's in the fire.
There's no turkey left on the table. The commuter's return on the six o'clock flyer brings no bale of hay for the stable. Well, the light, it is failing along the green belt as we follow the hard road signs. Semi-detached in our suburban-ness --- we're living in these hard times. Well the fly's in the milk and the cat's in the stew. Another bun in the oven --- oh, what to do? We'll laugh and we'll sing and try to bring a pound from your pocket. Good day to you. Oh, these hard times. The politicians sat on the wall and traded with the union game. Someone slapped a writ on our deficit --- not a penny left to our name. Oh, the times are hard and the credits lean, and they toss and they turn in sleep. And the line they take is the line they make --- but it's not the line they keep. The cow jumped over yesterday's moon and the lock ran away with the key. You know what you like, and you like what you know but there is no jam for tea. Well the light it is failing along the green belt as we follow the hard road signs. Semi-detached in our suburban-ness --- we're living in these hard times. |
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4:25 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
In the shuffling madness
Of the locomotive breath Runs the all time loser Headlong to his death Oh, he feels the pistons screaming Steam breaking on his brow Old Charlie stole the handle And the train it won't stop going No way to slow down He sees his children jumpin’ off At stations one by one His woman and his best friend In bed and having fun So he's crawling down the corridor On his hands and knees Old Charlie stole the handle And the train it won't stop going No way to slow down He hears the silence howling Catches angels as they fall And the all time winner Has got him by the balls Oh, he picks up Gideon's Bible Open at page one I think God, he stole the handle And the train it won't stop going No way to slow down No way to slow down No way to slow down No way to slow down No way to slow down |
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1:48 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
What would you like for Christmas ---
a new polarity? You're binary, and desperate to deal in high figures that lick us with their hotter flame --- lick each and everyone the same. And March, the mad scientist, rings a new change in ever-dancing colours. He rings it here and he rings it... but no one stops to see the change of fate and the fate of change that slips into his pocket --- so he locks it all away from view and shares not what he thought you knew. And April is summer-bound, And February's blue. And no one stops to see the colours. |
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8:17 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down upon the smiling faces.
He met the gazes - observed the spaces between the old men's cackle. He brewed a song of love and hatred - oblique suggestions - and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters - static-humming panel-beaters - freshly day-glo'd factory cheaters (salaried and collar-scrubbing). He titillated men-of-action - belly warming, hands still rubbing on the parts they never mention. He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating one-line jokers - T.V. documentary makers (over-fed and undertakers). Sunday paper backgammon players - family-scarred and women-haters. Then he called the band down to the stage and he looked at all the friends he'd made. The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes - observed the spaces in between the old men's cackle. And he brewed a song of love and hatred - oblique suggestions - and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters - static-humming panel-beaters. The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down on the rabbit-run. And threw away his looking-glass - saw his face in everyone. Hey! He titillated men-of-action - belly warming, hands still rubbing on the parts they never mention (salaried and collar-scrubbing). He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating one-line jokers - T.V. documentary makers (over-fed and undertakers). Sunday paper backgammon players - family-scarred and women-haters. Then he called the band down to the stage and he looked at all the friends he'd made. The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down on the rabbit-run. And he threw away his looking-glass and saw his face in everyone. Hey! The Minstrel in the Gallery. Yes! Looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes. Yeah! Mm. The Minstrel in the Gallery. |
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8:13 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes observed the spaces Between the old men's cackle. He brewed a song of love and hatred, Oblique suggestions and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters, Static-humming panel-beaters, Freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters (salaried and collar-scrubbing.) He titillated men-of-action Belly warming, hands still rubbing On the parts they never mention. He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating, One-line jokers, TV documentary makers (overfed and undertakers.) Sunday paper backgammon players Family-scarred and women-haters. Then he called the band down to the stage And he looked at all the friends he'd made. The minstrel in the gallery Looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes observed the spaces In between the old men's cackle. He brewed a song of love and hatred, Oblique suggestions and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters, Static-humming panel-beaters, The minstrel in the gallery Looked down on the rabbit-run. And threw away his looking-glass - Saw his face in everyone. He titillated men-of-action Belly warming, hands still rubbing On the parts they never mention. (salaried and collar-scrubbing.) He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating, One-line jokers, TV documentary makers (overfed and undertakers.) Sunday paper backgammon players Family-scarred and women-haters. Then he called the band down to the stage And he looked at all the friends he'd made. The minstrel in the gallery Looked down on the rabbit-run. And threw away his looking-glass - And saw his face in everyone. The minstrel in the gallery Looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes... The minstrel in the gallery |
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3:52 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
As I did walk by Hampstead Fair,
I came upon Mother Goose, So I turned her loose-- She was screaming. And a foreign student said to me Was it really true There are elephants, lions too, Piccadilly Circus? Walked down by the bathing pond To try and catch some sun. Saw at least a hundred school girls Sobbing into handkerchiefs as one. I don't believe they knew I was a schoolboy. And a bearded lady said to me If you start your raving And your misbehaving, You'll be sorry. And the chicken fancier came to play With his long red beard, And his sister's weird-- She drives a lorry. Laughed down by the putting green, I popped 'em in their holes. Four and twenty labourers were labouring And digging up their gold. I don't believe they knew That I was Long John Silver. Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds In his jet black mac Which he won't give back-- Stole it from a snowman. As I did walk by Hampstead Fair, I came upon Mother Goose, So I turned her loose-- She was screaming. Walked down by the bathing pond To try and catch some sun. Must have been least a hundred school girls Sobbing into handkerchiefs as one. I don't believe they knew I was a schoolboy. |
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3:27 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
Oh the leaded window opened
but you moved the dancing candle flame and the first moths of summer suicidal came, oh suicidal came. And the new breeze chattered in its May-bud tenderness sending water-lilies sailing as she turned to get undressed. And the long night awakened and we soared on powdered wings circling our tomorrows in the wary month of spring. Chasing shadows slipping in the magic lantern's light - creatures of the candle on the night's light's rite. Dipping and weaving, flutter through the golden needle's eye in our haystack madness, butterfly stroking on a spring-tide high. Life's too long (as the lemmings said) as the candle burned and the moths were wed. And we'll all burn together as the wick grows higher before the candle's dead. Oh the leaded window opened but you moved the dancing candle flame. And the first moths of summer suicidal came, oh suicidal came, to join in the worship of the light that never dies in the moments reflection of two moths spinning in her eyes. |
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7:10 |
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from Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971)
People what have you done?
Locked Him in His golden cage Golden cage Made Him bend to your religion Him resurrected from the grave From the grave He is the God of nothing If that’s all that you can see You are the God of everything He’s inside you and me So lean upon Him gently And don't call on Him to save You from your social graces And the sins you used to waive You used to waive The bloody Church of England In chains of history Requests your earthly presence At the vicarage for tea And the graven image You know who With his plastic crucifix He's got Him fixed Confuses me as to who and where and why As to how he gets his kicks He gets his kicks. Confessing to the endless sin With endless whining sounds You'll be praying 'til next Thursday To all the gods that you can count |
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7:55 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears,
Rehearse your loudest cry. There's folk out there who would do you harm So I'll sing you no lullaby. There's a lock on the window, there's a chain on the door, And a big dog in the hall. But there's dragons and beasties out there in the night To snatch you if you fall. So come out fighting with your rattle in hand, thrust and parry. Light A match to catch the devil's eye, bring a cross of fire to the fight. And let no sleep bring false relief from the tension of the fray. Come wake the dead with the scream of life, do battle with ghosts at play. And gather your toys at the call-to-arms and swing your big bear down Upon our necks when we come to set you sleeping safe and sound. It's as well we tell no lie to chase the face that cries. And little birds can't fly so keep an open eye. It's as well we tell no lie, so I'll sing you no lullaby. It's as well we tell no lie to chase the face that cries. And little birds can't fly so keep an open eye. It's as well we tell no lie, so I'll sing you no lullaby. Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears, Rehearse your loudest cry. There's folk out there who would do you harm So I'll sing you no lullaby. There's a lock on the window, there's a chain on the door, And a big dog in the hall. But there's dragons and beasties out there in the night To snatch you if you fall. So come out fighting with your rattle in hand, thrust and parry. Light A match to catch the devil's eye, bring a cross of fire to the fight. And let no sleep bring false relief from the tension of the fray. Come wake the dead with the scream of life, do battle with ghosts at play. And gather your toys at the call-to-arms and swing your big bear down. Upon our necks when we come to set you sleeping safe and sound. It's as well we tell no lie to chase the face that cries. And little birds can't fly so keep an open eye. It's as well we tell no lie, so I'll sing you no lullaby. |
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from Jethro Tull - Bursting Out [live] (1978)
Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears,
Rehearse your loudest cry. There's folk out there who would do you harm So I'll sing you no lullaby. There's a lock on the window, there's a chain on the door, And a big dog in the hall. But there's dragons and beasties out there in the night To snatch you if you fall. So come out fighting with your rattle in hand, thrust and parry. Light A match to catch the devil's eye, bring a cross of fire to the fight. And let no sleep bring false relief from the tension of the fray. Come wake the dead with the scream of life, do battle with ghosts at play. And gather your toys at the call-to-arms and swing your big bear down Upon our necks when we come to set you sleeping safe and sound. It's as well we tell no lie to chase the face that cries. And little birds can't fly so keep an open eye. It's as well we tell no lie, so I'll sing you no lullaby. It's as well we tell no lie to chase the face that cries. And little birds can't fly so keep an open eye. It's as well we tell no lie, so I'll sing you no lullaby. Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears, Rehearse your loudest cry. There's folk out there who would do you harm So I'll sing you no lullaby. There's a lock on the window, there's a chain on the door, And a big dog in the hall. But there's dragons and beasties out there in the night To snatch you if you fall. So come out fighting with your rattle in hand, thrust and parry. Light A match to catch the devil's eye, bring a cross of fire to the fight. And let no sleep bring false relief from the tension of the fray. Come wake the dead with the scream of life, do battle with ghosts at play. And gather your toys at the call-to-arms and swing your big bear down. Upon our necks when we come to set you sleeping safe and sound. It's as well we tell no lie to chase the face that cries. And little birds can't fly so keep an open eye. It's as well we tell no lie, so I'll sing you no lullaby. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Black and viscous--bound to cure blue lethargy
Sugar-plum petroleum for energy Tightrope-balanced payments need a small reprieve Oh, please believe we want to be In North Sea In North Sea oil New-found wealth sits on the shelf of yesterday Hot-air balloon inflation soon will make you pay Riggers rig and diggers dig their shallow grave But we'll be saved and what we crave Is North Sea Is North Sea oil Prices boom in Aberdeen and London Town Ten more years to lay the fears, erase the frown Before we are all nuclear--the better way! Oh, let us pray: we want to stay In North Sea In North Sea In North Sea oil |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Black and viscous--bound to cure blue lethargy
Sugar-plum petroleum for energy Tightrope-balanced payments need a small reprieve Oh, please believe we want to be In North Sea In North Sea oil New-found wealth sits on the shelf of yesterday Hot-air balloon inflation soon will make you pay Riggers rig and diggers dig their shallow grave But we'll be saved and what we crave Is North Sea Is North Sea oil Prices boom in Aberdeen and London Town Ten more years to lay the fears, erase the frown Before we are all nuclear--the better way! Oh, let us pray: we want to stay In North Sea In North Sea In North Sea oil |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Black and viscous--bound to cure blue lethargy
Sugar-plum petroleum for energy Tightrope-balanced payments need a small reprieve Oh, please believe we want to be In North Sea In North Sea oil New-found wealth sits on the shelf of yesterday Hot-air balloon inflation soon will make you pay Riggers rig and diggers dig their shallow grave But we'll be saved and what we crave Is North Sea Is North Sea oil Prices boom in Aberdeen and London Town Ten more years to lay the fears, erase the frown Before we are all nuclear--the better way! Oh, let us pray: we want to stay In North Sea In North Sea In North Sea oil |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Hair stands high on the cat's back like
a ridge of threatening hills. Sheepdogs howl, make tracks and growl --- their tails hanging low. And young children falter in their games at the altar of life's hide-and-seek between tall pillars, where Sunday-night killers in grey raincoats peek. I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain Blown through the eye of the hurricane Down to the stones where old ghosts play. Misty colours unfold a backcloth cold --- fine tapestry of silk I draw around me like a cloak and soundless glide a-drifting on eddies whirled in beech leaves furled --- brown and gold they fly in the warm mesh of sunlight sifting now from a cloudless sky. I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain Blown through the eye of the hurricane Down to the stones where old ghosts play. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Hair stands high on the cat's back like
a ridge of threatening hills. Sheepdogs howl, make tracks and growl --- their tails hanging low. And young children falter in their games at the altar of life's hide-and-seek between tall pillars, where Sunday-night killers in grey raincoats peek. I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain Blown through the eye of the hurricane Down to the stones where old ghosts play. Misty colours unfold a backcloth cold --- fine tapestry of silk I draw around me like a cloak and soundless glide a-drifting on eddies whirled in beech leaves furled --- brown and gold they fly in the warm mesh of sunlight sifting now from a cloudless sky. I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain Blown through the eye of the hurricane Down to the stones where old ghosts play. |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Hair stands high on the cat's back like
a ridge of threatening hills. Sheepdogs howl, make tracks and growl --- their tails hanging low. And young children falter in their games at the altar of life's hide-and-seek between tall pillars, where Sunday-night killers in grey raincoats peek. I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain Blown through the eye of the hurricane Down to the stones where old ghosts play. Misty colours unfold a backcloth cold --- fine tapestry of silk I draw around me like a cloak and soundless glide a-drifting on eddies whirled in beech leaves furled --- brown and gold they fly in the warm mesh of sunlight sifting now from a cloudless sky. I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain Blown through the eye of the hurricane Down to the stones where old ghosts play. |
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3:23 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile.
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder. Twitch your whiskers. Feel that you're really real. Another tea-time --- another day older. Puff warm breath on your tiny hands. You wish you were a man who every day can turn another page. Behind your glass you sit and look at my ever-open book --- One brown mouse sitting in a cage. Do you wonder if I really care for you --- Am I just the company you keep --- Which one of us exercises on the old treadmill --- Who hides his head, pretending to sleep? Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile. And every day we'll turn another page. Behind our glass we'll sit and look at our ever-open book --- One brown mouse sitting in a cage. |
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from Jethro Tull - Bursting Out [live] (1978)
Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile.
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder. Twitch your whiskers. Feel that you're really real. Another tea-time --- another day older. Puff warm breath on your tiny hands. You wish you were a man who every day can turn another page. Behind your glass you sit and look at my ever-open book --- One brown mouse sitting in a cage. Do you wonder if I really care for you --- Am I just the company you keep --- Which one of us exercises on the old treadmill --- Who hides his head, pretending to sleep? Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile. And every day we'll turn another page. Behind our glass we'll sit and look at our ever-open book --- One brown mouse sitting in a cage. |
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4:37 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
A one, two, three.
There's a haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way - And there's a note on the telephone - some roses on a tray. And the motorway's stretching right out to us all, as I pull on my old wings - One White Duck on your wall. Isn't it just too damn real? One White Duck on your wall. One Duck on your wall. I'll catch a ride on your violin - strung upon your bow. And I'll float on your melody - sing your chorus soft and low. There's a picture-view postcard to say that I called. You can see from the fireplace, One White Duck on your wall. Isn't it just too damn real? One White Duck on your wall. One Duck on your wall. So fly away Peter and fly away Paul - from the finger-tip ledge of contentment. The long restless rustle of high heel boots calls. And I'm probably bound to deceive you after all. Something must be wrong with me and my brain - if I'm so patently unrewarding. But my dreams are for dreaming and best left that way - and my zero to your power of ten equals nothing at all. There's no double-lock defense; there's no chain on my door. And I'm available for consultation, But remember your way in is also my way out, and love's four-letter word is no compensation. Well, I'm the Black Ace dog handler: I'm a waiter on skates - so don't you jump to your foreskin conclusion - Because I'm up to my deaf ears in cold breakfast trays - To be cleared before I can dine on your sweet Sunday lunch confusion. |
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1:36 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Brain-storming habit-forming battle-warning weary
Winsome actor spewing spineless chilling lines --- The critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring And really not an awful lot of fun. Well who the hell can he be when he's never had V.D., And he doesn't even sit on toilet seats? Court-jesting, never-resting He must be very cunning To assume an air of dignity And bless us all with his oratory prowess, His lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air. And every night his act's the same And so it must be all a game of chess he's playing "But you're wrong, Steve: you see, it's only solitaire." |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Orion, won't you give me your star sign
Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on my hill and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine Orion, light your lights: Come guard the open spaces From the black horizon to the pillow where I lie. Your faithful dog shines brighter than its lord and master Your jewelled sword twinkles as the world rolls by. So come up singing above the cloudy cover Stare through at people who toss fitful in their sleep. I know you're watching as the old gent by the station Scuffs his toes on old fag packets lying in the street Orion, won't you give me your star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on my hill and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine And silver shadows flick across the closing bistro. Sweet waiters link their arms and patter down the street, Their words lost blowing on cold winds in darkest Chelsea. Prime years fly fading with each young heart's beat. Orion, won't you make me a star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on your love and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine And young girls shiver as they wait by lonely bus-stops After sad parties: no-one to take them home To greasy bed-sitters and make a late-night play For lost virginity a thousand miles away. Orion, won't you make me a star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on your love and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine On the sky-line Orion |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Orion, won't you give me your star sign
Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on my hill and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine Orion, light your lights: Come guard the open spaces From the black horizon to the pillow where I lie. Your faithful dog shines brighter than its lord and master Your jewelled sword twinkles as the world rolls by. So come up singing above the cloudy cover Stare through at people who toss fitful in their sleep. I know you're watching as the old gent by the station Scuffs his toes on old fag packets lying in the street Orion, won't you give me your star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on my hill and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine And silver shadows flick across the closing bistro. Sweet waiters link their arms and patter down the street, Their words lost blowing on cold winds in darkest Chelsea. Prime years fly fading with each young heart's beat. Orion, won't you make me a star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on your love and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine And young girls shiver as they wait by lonely bus-stops After sad parties: no-one to take them home To greasy bed-sitters and make a late-night play For lost virginity a thousand miles away. Orion, won't you make me a star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on your love and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine On the sky-line Orion |
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from Jethro Tull - Stormwatch (1979)
Orion, won't you give me your star sign
Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on my hill and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine Orion, light your lights: Come guard the open spaces From the black horizon to the pillow where I lie. Your faithful dog shines brighter than its lord and master Your jewelled sword twinkles as the world rolls by. So come up singing above the cloudy cover Stare through at people who toss fitful in their sleep. I know you're watching as the old gent by the station Scuffs his toes on old fag packets lying in the street Orion, won't you give me your star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on my hill and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine And silver shadows flick across the closing bistro. Sweet waiters link their arms and patter down the street, Their words lost blowing on cold winds in darkest Chelsea. Prime years fly fading with each young heart's beat. Orion, won't you make me a star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on your love and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine And young girls shiver as they wait by lonely bus-stops After sad parties: no-one to take them home To greasy bed-sitters and make a late-night play For lost virginity a thousand miles away. Orion, won't you make me a star sign Orion, get up on the sky-line I'm high on your love and I feel fine Orion, let's sip the heavens' heady wine On the sky-line Orion |
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3:25 |
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| from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975) | |||||
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4:01 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
I'd like to take you
to the edge of every morning On a magic eiderdown To a window chair In the Paradise Steakhouse Where there's a cup of silver coffee Steaming chrome reflections From the mist in your hair Try not to watch me (Try not to watch me) Just call me after darkfall (Call me after darkfall) I'll bring a whip to sow My seed on your land In the Paradise Steakhouse There's a cup of silver coffee A sheath of steel so you may hold My sword in your hand I'll cut you, divide you Into tender pieces No wings to fly away Upon my dear In the Paradise Steakhouse On a plate upon a table I will carve your name with care To last the years I'd like to eat you (I'd like to eat you) All fire will consume you (Fire will consume you) Roast on the spit of love On this arrow true In the Paradise Steakhouse I'll taste every finger Baking [picking?] in the ashes Til the flames rise anew [Repeat first and second stanzas] |
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8:37 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
There's a light in the house, in the wood in the valley.
There's a thought in the head, of the man. Who carries his dreams, like the coat slung on his shoulder, Bringing you love, in the cap in his hand. And each step he takes, is one half of a life-time: No word he would say, could you understand. So he bundles his regrets, into a gesture of sorrow, Bringing you love, cap in hand. Catching breath, as he looks through the dining-room window: Candle-lit table, for two has been laid. Strange slippers by the fire: Strange boots in the hall-way. Put my cap on my head - I turn, and walk away. |
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8:37 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
There's a light in the house in the wood in the valley.
There's a thought in the head of the man. Who carries his dreams like the coat slung on his shoulder, Bringing you love in the cap in his hand. And each step he takes is one half of a lifetime: no word he would say could you understand. So he bundles his regrets into a gesture of sorrow, Bringing you love cap in hand. Catching breath as he looks through the dining-room window: candle lit table for two has been laid. Strange slippers by the fire. Strange boots in the hallway. Put my cap on my head. I turn and walk away. |
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4:30 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
Now if you think Ray blew it,
there was nothing to it. They patched him up as good as new. You can see him every day --- riding down the queen's highway, handing out his small cigars to the kids from school. And all the little girls with their bleached blond curls clump up on their platform soles. And they say ``Hey Ray --- let's ride away downtown where we can roll some alley bowls. And Ray grins from ear to here, and whispers... So follow me. Trail along. my leather jacket's buttoned up. And my four-stroke song will pick you up when your last class ends; and you can tell all your friends: The Pied Piper pulled you, The mad biker fooled you, I'll do what you want to: If you ride with me on a Friday anything goes. So follow me, hold on tight. My school girl fancy's flowing in free flight. I've a tenner in my skin tight jeans. You can touch it if your hands are clean. The Pied Piper pulled you, the mad biker folled you, I'll do what you want to: If you ride with me on a Friday anything goes. |
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2:42 |
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| from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974) | |||||
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3:00 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
The wind is on the river and the tide has turned too late,
So we're sailing for another shore where some other ladies wait. To throw us silken whispers: catch us by the anchor chains, But we all laugh so politely and we sail on just the same For Queen and Country in the long dying day, And it's been this way for five long years, since we signed our souls away. We bring back gold and ivory; rings of diamonds; strings of pearls Make presents to the government so they can have their social whirl With Queen and Country in the long dying day. And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away. They build schools and they build factories with the spoils of battles won. And we remain their pretty sailor boys hold our heads up to the gun. Of Queen and Country in the long dying day. And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away. To Queen and Country in the long dying day. And it's been this way for five long years since we signed our souls away. |
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5:06 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight. Unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light. Death's head belt buckle --- yesterday's dreams --- the transport caf' prophet of doom. Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams in his post-war-babe gloom. Cut along the dotted line --- slip in and seal the flap. Postal competition crazy, though you wear the dunce's cap. Win a fortnight in Ibiza --- line up for the big hand out. You'll never know unless you try --- what winning's all about --- be a quizz kid. Be a whizz kid. Six days later there's a rush telegram Drop everything and telephone this number if you can. It's a free trip down to London for a weekend of high life. They'll wine you; dine you; undermine you --- better not bring the wife --- be a quizz kid. Be a whizz kid. It's a try out for a quizz show that millions watch each week. Following the fate and fortunes of contestants as they speak. Answerable to everyone; responsible to all; publicity dissected --- brain cells splattered on the walls of encyclopaedic knowledge. May be barbaric but it's fun. As the clock ticks away a lifetime, hold your head up to the gun of a million cathode ray tubes aimed at your tiny skull. May you find sweet inspiration --- may your memory not be dull. May you rise to dizzy success. May your wit be quick and strong. May you constantly amaze us. May your answers not be wrong. May your head be on your shoulders. May your tongue be in your cheek. And most of all we pray that you may come back next week! Be a quizz kid. Be a whizz kid. |
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3:37 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Through northern lights on back streets ---
I told the coachman, Just drive me on, It's the same old destination but a different world to sing upon. So he threw back his head and he counted. I jumped out about five to nine. And I waved at the stage door-keeper --- said, Mister, get me to the stage on time. Oh, but the rain wasn't made of water and the snow didn't have a place in the sun so I slipped behind a rainbow and waited till the show had done. I packed my ammunition. Inside the crowd was shouting, Encore, But I had a most funny feeling --- it wasn't me they were shouting for. So when the tall dark lady smiled at me I said, Oh, baby let us go for a ride. And we came upon two drinks or four and popped them oh so neatly inside. Oh, but the rain wasn't made of water and the snow didn't have a place in the sun so we slipped behind a rainbow and lay there until we had done. Let me pack you deep in my suitcase. Oh, there's sure to be room for two --- or you can drive me to the airplane but don't let me catch those rainbow blues. |
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3:45 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Ministrel In The Gallery (1975)
Well I saw a bird today - flying from a bush and the wind blew it
away. And the black-eyed mother sun scorched the butterfly at play - velvet veined I saw it burn. With a wintry storm-blown sigh, a silver cloud blew right on by And, taking in the morning, I sang - O Requiem. Well, my lady told me, "Stay." I looked aside and walked away along the Strand. But I didn't say a word, as the train time-table blurred close behind the taxi stand. Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window. Fading in the traffic; watched her go. And taking in the morning, heard myself singing - O Requiem. Here I go again. It's the same old story. Well, I saw a bird today - I looked aside and walked away along the Strand. |
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3:46 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Songs From The Wood (1977)
Now is the solstice of the year. Winter is the glad song that you
hear. Seven maids move in seven time. Have the lads up ready in the line. Ring out these bells. Ring out, ring Solstice Bells. Ring, Solstice Bells. Join together 'neath the Mistle-toe. By the Holly oak where-on it grows. Seven Druids dance in seven time. Sing the song the Bells call loudly chime. Ring out these bells. Ring out, ring Solstice Bells. Ring, Solstice Bells. Ring out. Ring out the Solstice Bells. Ring out. Ring out the Solstice Bells. Praise be to the distant sister Sun. Joyful as the silver planets run. Seven maids move in seven time. Sing the song the Bells call loudly chime. Ring out those bells. Ring out, ring Solstice Bells. Ring, Solstice Bells. Ring out! Ring out! Ring out! Ring out! |
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4:16 |
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from Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses (1978)
I chase your every footstep
and I follow every whim. When you call the tune I'm ready to strike up the battle hymn. My lady of the meadows --- My comber of the beach --- You've thrown the stick for your dog's trick but it's floating out of reach. The long road is a rainbow and the pot of gold lies there. So slip the chain and I'm off again --- You'll find me everywhere. I'm a Rover. As the robin craves the summer to hide his smock of red, I need the pillow of your hair in which to hide my head. I'm simple in my sadness, resourceful in remorse. Then I'm down straining at the lead --- holding on a windward course. Strip me from the bundle of balloons at every fair: colourful and carefree --- Designed to make you stare. But I'm lost and I'm losing the thread that holds me down. And I'm up hot and rising in the lights of every town. |
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2:50 |
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from Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll (1976)
Salamander --- born in the sun-kissed flame.
Who was it lit your candle --- branded you with your name? I see you walking by my window in your Kensington haze. Salamander, burn for me and I'll burn for you. |
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4:21 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
They left me, leaving my house on fire, me running round ---
got out through the window. While clinging to the skirts of fate was not my idea of fun I'll jump to it gladly. The town was filled with smoke and hate. Came to my senses just too late to realize that all I ever owned was borrowed. I thanked them for having shown me that nothing ever really belongs to anyone. They burned my books and they broke my car, and gave the dog to a man who used him for breeding. They felled my trees and they tramped flowers and threw the kitten into my new pool. The same things done to other men had made them run away from the city. This being the case, I joined them there and breathing air spent the night with these new friends. |
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3:38 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Over the mountains, and under the sky
Riding dirty gray horses, go you and I. Mating with chance, copulating with mirth The sad-glad paymasters (for what it's worth). The ice-cream castles are refrigerated; The super-marketeers are on parade. There's a golden handshake hanging round your neck, As you light your cigarette on the burning deck. And you balance your world on the tip of your nose Like a Sealion with a ball, at the carnival. You wear a shiny skin and a funny hat The Almighty Animal Trainer lets it go at that. You bark ever-so-slightly at the Trainer's gun, With you whiskers melting in the noon-day sun. You flip and you flop under the Big White Top Where the long-legged ring-mistress starts and stops. But you know, after all, the act is wearing thin As the crowd grows uneasy and the boos begin. But you balance your world on the tip of your nose You're a Sealion with a ball at the carnival. Just a trace of pride upon our fixed grins For there is no business like the show we're in. There is no reason, no rhyme, no right To leave the circus 'til we've said good-night. The same performance, in the same old way; It's the same old story to this Passion Play. So we'll shoot the moon, and hope to call the tune And make no pin cushion of this big balloon. Look how we balance the world on the tips of our noses, Like Sealions with a ball at the carnival. |
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3:18 |
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from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974)
Would you like to see my lion
My friend Cecil is damp and smooth A damp smooth sea lion Yes, Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a clever sealion Cecil sometimes swims And often sits And balances multi-coloured striped balls? Yes balances multi-coloured striped balls Clever Cecil Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a seali- Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil the sealion is serene He doesn't wear spectacles or a scarf No central heating or cement? Well the whole ocean is Cecil's home Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion Cecil is a sealion (Cecil is a sea lion) |
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4:10 |
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| from Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull - Warchild (1974) | |||||
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