1.     "THIS WAS"                                          3
 2.     "STAND UP"                                          4
 3.     "BENEFIT"                                           5
 4.     "AQUALUNG"                                          6
 4.1.   AQUALUNG                                            6                                           6 Eyed Mary                                    7 Day Return                                   7 Goose                                       8'ring Aloud                                    8 To Me                                           9
 4.2.   MY GOD                                             10 God                                            10 43                                           10                                        11 Breath                                 11 Up                                           11
 5.     "LIVING IN THE PAST"                               13
 5.1.   Living in the Past                                 13
 6.     "THICK AS A BRICK"                                 14
 7.     "A PASSION PLAY"                                   15
 8.     "WARCHILD"                                         16
 9.     "MINSTREL IN THE GALLERY                           17
 9.1.   Minstrel in the Gallery                            17
 9.2.   Cold Wind to Valhalla                              18
 9.3.   Black Satin Dancer                                 18
 9.4.   Requiem                                            18
 9.5.   One White Duck / 0e10 = Nothing at All             19
 9.6.   Baker Street Muse                                  20 And The Whore                              20 Waltzer                             21 England Reverie                            21
 9.7.   Grace                                              22
 10.    "TOO OLD TO ROCK'N'ROLL: TOO YOUNG TO DIE"         23
 10.1.  Quizz Kid                                          23
 10.2.  Crazed Institution                                 24
 10.3.  Salamander                                         24
 10.4.  Taxi Grab                                          25
 10.5.  From a Dead Beat to an Old Greaser                 25
 10.6.  Bad-Eyed and Loveless                              25
 10.7.  Big Dipper                                         26
 10.8.  Too Old to Rock'n'Roll: Too Young to Die           26
 10.9.  Pied Piper                                         27
 10.10. The Chequered Flag (Dead or Alive)                 28
 11.    "SONGS FROM THE WOOD"                              29
 12.    "HEAVY HORSES"                                     30
 12.1.  ...And The Mouse Police Never Sleeps               30
 12.2.  Acres Wild                                         30
 12.3.  No Lullaby                                         31
 12.4.  Moths                                              32
 12.5.  Journeyman                                         32
 12.6.  Rover                                              33
 12.7.  One Brown Mouse                                    33
 12.8.  Heavy Horses                                       34
 12.9.  Weathercock                                        35
 13.    "BURSTING OUT"                                     36
 14.    "STORMWATCH"                                       37
 15.    "A"                                                38
 16.    "THE BROADSWORD AND THE BEAST"                     39
 16.1.  Beastie                                            39
 16.2.  Clasp                                              40
 16.3.  Fallen on Hard Times                               40
 16.4.  Flying Colours                                     41
 16.5.  Slow Marching Band                                 41
 16.6.  Broadsword                                         42
 16.7.  Pussy Willow                                       42
 16.8.  Wathing Me Watching You                            42
 16.9.  Seal Driver                                        43
 16.10. Cheerio                                            43
 17.    "UNDER WRAPS"                                      44
 18.    "CREST OF KNAVE"                                   45

                           (p) 1968

 1. My Sunday Feelin
 2. Someday the Sun Won't Shine for You
 3. Beggars Farm
 4. Move on Along
 5. Serenade to a Cuckoo
 6. Dharma for One
 7. It's Breakin Me Up
 8. Cat's Squirrell (trad.)
 9. A Song for a Jeffrey
10. Round

                           (p) 1969

 1. A New Day Yesterday
 2. Jeffrey Goes to Leicester Square
 3. Bouree
 4. Back to the Family
 5. Look into the Sun
 6. Nothing is Easy
 7. Fat Man
 8. We Used to Know
 9. Reason for Waiting
10. For a Thousand Mothers

                           (p) 1970

 1. With You There to Help Me
 2. Nothing to Say
 3. Inside
 4. Son
 5. For Michael Collins, Jeffrey and Me
 6. To Cry You a Song
 7. A Time for Everything?
 8. Teacher
 9. Plag in Time
10. Sossity; You're a Woman
  (Chrysalis CHR 1043)
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1971

 1. Aqualung
 2. Cross-eyed Mary
 3. Cheap Day Return
 4. Mother Goose
 5. Woud'ring Aloud
 6. Up to Me
 7. My God
 8. Hymn 43
 9. Slipstream
10. Locomotive Breath
11. Wind-Up

Sitting on a park bench =
eyeing up little girls
with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose =
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun =
watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck =
spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
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 =
goes down to the bog to
warm his feet.
Feeling alone =
the army's up the road
salvation a la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend =
don't 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 on to your beard is
screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep=sea=diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

madness in the spring.

Who would be a poor man
a beggarman, a thief=
if he had a rich man in his hand.
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.
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.

On Preston platform
do your soft shoe shuffle dance.
Brush away the cigarette ash that's
falling down your pants.
And 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

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 and lions too
In Piccadilly Circus.
Walked down by the bathing pond
to try and catch some sun.
Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls 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.
Then 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 =
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 snow man.

Wond'ring aloud =
how we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset =
my hand in her hair.
We are our own saviours
as we start both our herts beating life
into each other.
Wond'ring aloud =
will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
I'm tasting the smell
of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
and I shake my head.
And it's only the giving
that makes you what you are.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Take you to the cinema
and leave you in a Wimpy Bar
you tell me that we've gone too far =
come running up to me.
Make the scene at Cousin Jack's =
leave him to put the bottles back =
mends his glasses that I cracked =
well that's one up to me.
Buy a silver cloud to ride =
pack the tennis club inside =
trouser cuffs hung far too wide
well it was up to me.
Tyres down on your bicycle =
your nose feels like an icicle =
the yellow fingered smoky girl
is looking up to me.
Well I'm a common working man
with a half of bitter=bread and jam
and if it pleases me I'll put one on you man =
when the copper fades away.
The rainy season comes to pass =
the day=glo pirate sinks at last =
and if I laughed a bit too fast.
Wall it was up to me.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

People = what have you done =
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion =
Him resurrected 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 a part of 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 wish 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=
he's got him fixed =
with His plastic crucifix =
confuses me as to who and where and why =
as to how He gets His kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin =
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the Gods that you can count.

Oh Father high in heaven = smile down upon your son
who's busy with his money games = his women and his gun.
And the unsung Western Hero killed an indian or three
and made his name in Hollywood to set the white man free.
If Jesus saves = well, He'd better save Himself
from the gory glory seeker's who use His name in death.
I saw Him in the city and on the mountains of the moon =
his cross was rather bloody=He could hardly roll His stone
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Well the lush separation enfolds you =
and the products of wealth
push you along the bow wave
of their spiritless undying selves.
And you press on God's waiter your last dime =
as He hands you the bill.
And you spin in the slipstream =
tideless = unreasoning =
paddle right out of the mess.

In the shuffling madness
of the locomotive breath,
runs the all=time loser,
headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping =
steam breaking on his brow =
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going =
no way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off
at stations = one by one.
His woman and his best friend =
in bed and having fun.
Crawling down the corridor
on his hands and knees =
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train 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.
He picks up Gideons Bible =
open at page one =
Old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going =
no way to slow down.

When I was young, they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game.
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was just a fool.
So I left there in the morning with their God tucked
   underneath my arm =
their half=assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question and by way of firm reply,
He said = I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares);
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers=
I don't believe you: you got the whole damn
   thing all wrong =
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines =
how do you dare to tell me that I'm my Father's son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I'd rather look around me = compose a better song
'cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man
   that me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1971

1.  Song for Jeffrey (see "This Was")
2.  Love Story
3.  Christmas Song
4.  Living in the Past
5.  Driving Song
6.  Bouree (see "Stand Up")
7.  Sweet Dream
8.  Singing All Day
9.  Tacher (see "Benefit")
10. Witches Promise
11. Inside (see "Benefit")
12. Just Trying to Be
13. By Kind Permisson Of
14. Dharma for One (see "This Was")
15. Wond'ring again
16. Locomotive Breath (see "Aqualung")
17. Life is a Long Song
18. Up the 'Pool
19. Dr Bogenbroom
20. For Later
21. Nursie

Happy and I'm smiling
Walk a mile to drink your water
You know I'd love to love you
And above you there's no other
We'll go walking out
While others shout of war's disaster
Oh, we won't give in,
Let's go living in the past
Once I used to join in
Every boy and girl was my friend
Now there's revolution
But they don't know what they's fighting
Let us close our eyes
Outside their lives go on much faster
Oh we won't give in
We'll keep living in the past
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1972

                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1973

                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1974

 1. WarChild
 2. Queen and Country
 3. Ladies
 4. Back-door Angels
 5. SeaLion
 6. Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day
 7. Bungle in the Jungle
 8. Only Solitaire
 9. The Third Hoorah
10. Two Fingers
  (Chrysalis CHR 1067)
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                     (p) 1975

1. Minstrel in the Gallery
2. Cold Wind to Valhalla
3. Black Satin Dancer
4. Requiem
5. One White Duck / 0e10 = Nothing at All
6. Baker Street Muse
   including: Pig-Me & the Whore
              Nice Little Tune
              Crash-Barrier Waltzer
              Mother England Reverie
7. Grace

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 friend's he'd made.
The Ministrel in the Gallery looked down on the
And threw away his looking-glass -- saw his face in
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

And ride with us young bonny lass --
With the angels of the night.
Crack wind clatter -- flash rein bite on an out-size
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
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.

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 r_i_g_h_t 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.

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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

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 into 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.

There's haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way --
And there's 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?
I'll catch a ride on a 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?
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 defence; there's no chain on
        my door.
I'm available for consultation.
But remember your way in is also my way out, and
        love's four-letter word is no compensation.
I'm the Black Ace dog-handler; I'm a waiter on
    skates -- so don't 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Windy bus-stop. Click. Snop-window. Heel.
Shady gentlemen. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands,
With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time --
You can call on 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..........brew -- boys, throw it ......
?C........... Colours them green.
?From the ........ Pool goes the ........... Princess
?       With green ........
?Fertile e(n)th-mother, your b.... Mound is f(itry) (feet)
?       Down in the Baker Street underground.
Walking down the gutter thinking,
        "How the Hell am I today?"
Well, I didn't really ask you but thanks all the same.

"Big bottled Fraulein, put your weight on me", said the
      pig-me to the whore,
      desperate for more in his assault upon the mountain.
Little man, his youth a fountain.
Overdrafted and still counting.
Vernacular, verbose; an attempt in getting close to
        where he came from.
In the doorway of the stars, between Blandford Street
        and Mars;
Proposition, deal. Flying button feel. Testicle testing.
Wallet ever-bulging. Dressed to the left, divulging
        the wrinkles of his years.
Wedding-bell induced fears
Shedding bell-end tears in the pocket of her resistance.
International assistance flowing generous and full
        to his never-ready tool.
Pulls his eyes over her wool.
And  he shudders as he comes --
And my rudder slowly turns me into the Marylebone Road.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

And here slip I -- dragging one foot in the gutter --
In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios.
And there sits she -- no bed, no bread not butter --
On a double yellow line where she can park anytime,
Old Lady Grey; Crash-barrier Waltzer --
Some only son's mother, Baker St. Casualty.
Oh Mr. Policeman -- blue shirt ballet master
Feet in sticking plaster --
Move the old lady on,
Strange pas-de-deux --
His Romeo to her Juliet.
Her sleeping draught his poisoned regret,
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the
        crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel --
I'll pay the bill and make her well -- like hell you
        bloody will!
No do-good over kill. We must teach them to be still
        more independent.

I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone.
I have no wish for wishing-wells or wishing bones.
I have no house in the country I have no motor-car.
And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one-line
        joker in a public bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and I'm
        a one-band-man.
And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand.
There was a little boy stood on a burning log,
   rubbing his hands with glee. He said "Oh Mother England
   did you light my smile; or did you light
   this fire under me?
One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a picture of the queen.
And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree --
It's just the nonsense that it seems".
So I drift down through the Baker Street valley,
        in my steep-sided un-reality.
And when all's said and all's done -- I couldn't wish
        for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead-certainty --
That I'm just a Baker Street Muse.
Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same
        old way.
I tried to catch my eye but I looked the other way.
Indian restaurants that curry my brain --
Newspaper warriors changing the names they
        advertise from the station stand.
Circumcised with cold print hands.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Windy bus-stop. Click. Snop-window. Heel.
Shady gentlemen. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands.
With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time --
You can call on me on another line.
     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.

Hello sun,
Hello bird,
Hello my lady,
Hello breakfast. May I
        buy you again tomorrow?
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1976

 1. Quizz Kid
 2. Crazed Institution
 3. Salamander
 4. Taxi Grab
 5. From a Dead Beat to an Old Greaser
 6. Bed-eyed and Loveless
 7. Big Dipper
 8. Too Old to Rock'n'Roll: Too Young to Die
 9. Pied Piper
10. The Chequered Flag
  (Chrysalis CHR 1111)

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 winnig's all about
        - Quizz Kidd.
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 spattered 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

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 new dapper 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 dog-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.

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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Shake a leg, it's the big rush
Can't find a taxi can't find a bus
Bodies jammed in the underground
Evacuating London town
Nowhere to put your feet as the big store shoppers
        and the pavements meet
Red lights - pin stripes - short step shuffle
        into the night
Tea time calls - the Bingo Halls open at seven
        in the old front stalls.
How about a Taxi Grab.
There's an empty cab by the taxi stand
Driver's in the cafe washing his hands
Big diesel idles - the keys inside -
C'mon Sally let's take a ride
Flag down - up-town - no sweat
For rush hour travel, it's the best bet yet.
Taxi Grab.

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 did 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, Rene 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.

Yes'n she's bad-eyed and 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

She's a warm fart at Christmas
She's a breath of champagne on sparking night
Yes'n she's bad-eyed and loveless
Turns other women to envious green
Yes and she's bad-eyed and loveless
A young man's vision - in my old man's dream.

The mist rolls off the beaches: the train rolls
        into the station
Weekend happiness seekers - pent-up saturation
Well, we don't mean anyone any harm
We weren't on the Glasgow train.
See you at the Pleasure Beach
Roller-coasting heroes.
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 back room
I'm the Big Dipper
It's the weekend rage
Rich widlowed landlady give me your spare front door key.
If you're 39 or over, I'll make love to wou next Thursday-
I may stay over for a week or two
Drop a postcard to me mum.
I'll meet you on the waltzer
We'll go big-dipping daily.

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.
Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die
Yes, he's too old, etc.
He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs
And prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
All his mates are doing time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars and meet
        at the tenis club do's
For drinks on a sunday - work on Monday
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll but they're too young
        to die
Yes, they're too old, etc.
So the old Rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before
        he takes his leave
Upon the Al by Scotch Corner just like it used to be.
And as he flies - tears in his eyes - his wind-whipped
        word echo the final take
As he hits the trunk road doing around 120 with no room
        left ot brake
And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll
And he was too young to die.

Well, if you think Ray blew it,
There was nothing to it.
They patched him up as good as new.
Now you can see hin 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 blonde 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 fooled you
I'll you ride with me on a Friday
Anything goes.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

The disc brakes drag, the chequered flag sweeps across
        the oil-slick track
The young man's home; dry as a bone. His helmet off, he
        waves: the crowd waves back.
One lap victory roll. Gladiator soul
The taker of the day in winning has to say
Isn't it grand to be playing to the stand, dead or alive.
The sunlight streaks through the curtain cracks
Touches the old man where he sleeps
The nurse brings up a cup of tea - two biscuits
        and the morning paper mystery.
The hard road's and, the white God's send is nearer
        everyday, in dying the old man says
Isn't it grand to be playing to the stand; dead or alive.
The still-born child can't feel the rain
        as the chequered flag falls once again
The deaf composer completes his final score.
        He'll never hear his sweet encore
The chequered flag, the bull's red rag
The lemming-hearted hordes running ever-faster
        to the shore singing.
Isn't it grand to be playing to the stand, dead or alive.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1977

1. Song from the Wood
2. Jack-In-The-Green
3. Cup of Wonder
4. Hunting Girl
5. Ring Out, Solstice Bells
6. Velvet Green
7. The Whistler
8. Pibroch (Cap in Hand)
9. Fire at Midnight
 (Chrysalis CHR 1132)
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                 (p) 1978

1. ... And The Mouse Police Never Sleeps
2. Acres Wild
3. No Lullaby
4. Moths
5. Journeyman
6. Rover
7. One Brown Mouse
8. Heavy Horses
9. Weathercock
 (Chrysalis CHR 1175)

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 ===
Lacensed to mutilate.
From warm milk on a lazy day
        to dawn patrol on hungry hate.
 ...No, The Mouse Police Never Sleeps
        dimbing on the roy.
Windy roof-top weathercock
Warm-blooded night on a cold tile.

I'll make love to you
   in all good places
   under black mountains,
   in open spaces.
By deep brown rivers
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.


Keep your eyes open and pride up your cars -
        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 cham on the door;
        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.
Trust 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.
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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

The leaded window opened
        to move the dancing candle flame
And the first Moths of summer
        suicedal came
And a new breeze chattered
        in its May-bud tenderness ===
Sending water-lillies sailing
        as she terned 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 a magic lantern slide ===
Creatures of the candle
        on a night-light-ride.
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 Lemming 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.
The leaded window opened
        to move the dancing candle flame.
And the first moths of summer
        suicidal came
        to join in worship
        of the light that never dies
        in a moment's reflection
        of two Moths spinning in her eyes.

Spin-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 briefaise 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Journeyman night-tripping on the late fantastic
Too late to stop for tea at Gerrards Cross
        and hear the soft shoes on the footbridge shuffle
        as the wheels turn biting on the midnight frust.
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.

I chase your every footstep
        and I follow every whim.
When you call the tune I'm ready
        to strike up the battle himn.
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.

Smile your little smile === take some tea with me awhile.
Brush away that black doud 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

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.

Iron-clad feather-feet poundin the dust
An October's day, towards evening.
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep shest 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 fthat 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.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the down
        across these acres glistening
        like dew on a carpet lawn.
In these dark towns folk he 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.

Good morning Weather cock; How did you fare last night
Did the cold wind bite you, did you face up to the fright
When the leaves spin from October and whip around
        your tail
Did you shake from the blast, did you shiver through
        the gale?
Give us direction; the best of goodwill ===
Put us in touch with fair winds.
Sing to us softly, hum evening's song ===
Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.
Do you simply reflect changes in the patterns of the sky,
Or is it true to say the weather heeds the twinkle
        in your eye?
Do you fight the rush of winter; do you hold snowflakes
        at bay,
Do you lift the dawn sun from the fields and help him
        on his way?
Good morning Weathercock; make this day bright.
Put us in touch with your fair winds.
Sing to us softly, hum evening's song
Point the way to better days we can share with you.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1978

 1. No Lullaby (*78)
 2. Sweet Dream (*71s)
 3. Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day (*74)
 4. Jack in the Green (*77)
 5. One Brown Mouse (*78)
 6. A New Day Yesterday (*69)
 7. Flute Solo Improvisation/God Rest Ye Merry
 8. Song from the Wood (*77)
 9. Thick As a Brick (*72)
10. Hunting Girl (*77)
11. Too Old To Rock and Roll, Too Young To Die (*76)
12. Conundrum (Martin Barre, B. Barlow)
13. Minstrel in the Gallery (*75)
14. Cross Eyed Mary (*71)
15. Quatrain (Martin Barre)
16. Aqualung (*71)
17. Locomotive Breath (*71)
18. The Dambusters March (Eric Coates)
  (Chrysalis CH2 1201)

(*69)  - see "STAND UP"
(*71)  - see "AQUALUNG"
(*71s) - see "LIVING IN THE PAST"
(*72)  - see "THICK AS A BRICK"
(*74)  - see "WAR CHILD"
(*77)  - see "SONGS FROM THE WOOD"
(*78)  - see "HEAVY HORSES"
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1979

 1. North Sea Oil
 2. Orion
 3. Home
 4. Dark Ages
 5. Warm Sporran
 6. Something's on the Move
 7. Old Ghrosts
 8. Dun Ringill
 9. Flying Dutchman
10. Elegy
  (Chrysalis CHR 1238)
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1980

 1. Crossfire
 2. Flingdale Flyer
 3. Workin' John Workin' Joe
 4. Black Sunday
 5. Protect & Survive
 6. Butteries Not Encluded
 7. Uniform
 8. 4 w.d.(Low Ratio)
 9. The Pine Marten's Jig
10. And Further On
  (Chrysalis CHR 1301)
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1982

 1. Beastie
 2. Clasp
 3. Fallen on Hard Times
 4. Flying Colours
 5. Slow Marching Band
 6. BroadSword
 7. Pussy Willow
 8. Watching Me Watching You
 9. Seal Driver
10. Cheerio
  (Chrysalis CHR 1380)

From early days of infancy through trembling years
   of youth
   long murky middle-age and final hours longin the tooth
   he is the hundred names of terror -
   creature you love the least
Picture his name before you and exorcise the beast.
He roved up and down through History - spectre with
   tules to tell
In the darkness when the campfire's dead - to each
   his private Hell
If you look behind your shoulder as you feel his eyes
   to feast you can witness now the everchanging nature
   of the Beast.
If you wear a warmer sporran, you can keep the foe at bay
You can pop those pills and visit some psychiatrist
   who'll say -
There is nothing I can do for you, everywhere's
   a danger zone
I'd love to help get rid of it but I've got one of my own.
There's a beast upon my shoulder and a fiend upon my back
Feel his burning breath a-heaving, smoke oozing
   from his stack
And he moves beneath the covers or he lies below the bed
He's the Beast upon you shoulder. He's price upon
   your head.
He's the lonely fear of dying, and for some, of living too
He's your private nightmare pricking. He'd just love
   to turn the screw
So stand as one defiant - Yes, and Let your voices swell.
Stare that Beastie in the face and really give him Hell.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

We travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits
   gliding cold-eyed march towards the down behind
   hard-weather hoods a-hiding
Meeting as the tall ships do, passing in the channel
   Afraid to chance a gentle touch -- afraid to make
   the Clasp.
In high-rise city canyons dwells the discontent of ages
On ring roads, nose to bumper crawl commuters
   in their cages
Cryptic signals flash across from pilots in the fast lane
Double-locked and belted in -- too late to make the Clasp.
Lets break the journey now on some lonely road
Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload
Tolk in confidential terms, share a dark unspoken fear
Refill the cup and drink it up. Say goodnight
   and wish good luck.
Synthetic chiefs with frozen smiles holding unsteady
Grip the reins of History, high on their battle horses
And meeting as good statesmen do before the T.V. Eyes
   of millions
   hand to hand exchange the lie --
   pretend to make the Clasp.

Fallen on Hard Times -- but it feels good to know
   that milk and honey's just around the bend
Running on bad lines -- we'd better run as we go
Tear up, tear up the overdraft again.
Oh, dear Prime Minister -- it's all such a mess
Go right ahead and pull the rotten tooth
Oh, Mr President -- you've seen put to the test
Come clean, for once, and hit us with the truth.
Looking for sunshine -- oh but it's black and it's cold
Yet you say that milk and honey's just round the bend.
Giving us a hard time, my friends
Handing us the same line again.
Fallen on Hard Times -- and there's nowhere to hide
Now they've re-possessed the Rolls Royce and the mink
Turning on the peace sign -- and it's back to the wood
Soon there will be raised an holy stink.
Somebody wake me. I've seen sleeping too long
Oh, I don't have to take this lying down
You can keep your promises. Shove'em where they belong
Don't ask me to the party -- won't be around.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

Shout if you will, but that just won't do
I, for one, would rather follow softer options
I'll take the easy line; another sip of wine
And if I ignore the face you wore, it's just a way of mine
   to keep from flying colours.
Don't lay your bait while the whole world waits
around to see me shoot you down - it's all so second-rate.
When we can last for days on a loving night;
or for hours at least on a warm whisper given.
You always pick the best time to rise to the fight.
To break the hard bargain that we've driven
   Once again were flying colours.
I thought we had it out the night before
and settled old scores, but not the hard way.
Was it a glass too much? Or a smile too few?
Did our friends all catch the needle match --
   did we want them to ?
In a fancy restaurant we were all aglow
Keeping cool by mutual permission
How did the conversation get to where we came to blows
We were set up in a red condition
   And again we're flying colours.
Shout -- but you see it still won't do
With my colours on I can be just as bad as you
Have I had a glass too Much? Did I give a smile too few?
Did our friends all catch the needle match --
   did we want them to?
We act our parts so well, like we wrote the play
All so predictable and we know it.
We'll settle old scores now, and settle the hard way
You may not even live to outgrow it!
   Once again we're flying colours.

Would you join a Slow Marching Band?
   And take pleasure in your leaving
   as the ferry sails and tears are dried
   and cows come home at evening.
Could you get behind a Slow Marching Band?
-- join together in the passing
   of all we shared through yesterdays
   in sorrows neverlasting.
Take a hand and take a bow
You played for me; thats all for now
Oh, and never mind the words just ham
   along and keep on going.
Walk on slowly -- don't look behind you
Don't say goodbye, love. I won't remind you.
Dream of me as the nights draw cold
   still marking time through Winter
You paid the piper and called the tune
   and you marched the band away.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

I see a dark sail on the horizon
   set under a dark cloud that hides the sun
Bring me my Broadsword and clear understanding
Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman
Get up to the roundhouse on the cliff-top standing
Take women and children and bed them down
Bring me my Broadsword and clear understanding
Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman
Bless with a hard heart those who surround me
Bless the women and children who firm our hands
Put our backs to the North wind. Hold fast by the river
Sweet memories to drive us on for the Motherland.

In the half-tone light of a young morning
   she sighs and shifts on the pillow
And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly
   to kiss the Pussy Willow.
In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing
   in a sad voice nobody hears
She waits in her castle of make-believing
   for her white knight to appear.
Pussy Willow -- down fur-lined avenue
   brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes
Runs for the train -- see, eight o'clock's coming
   cutting dreams down to size again.
She longs for the East and a pale dress flowing
   on apartment in old Mayfair
On to fish the Spey, spinning the first run of Spring
   or to die for a cause somewhere.
Pussy Willow -- down fur-lined avenue
   brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes
Runs from the train. Near her typewriter humming
   cutting dreams down to size again.

I sit by the cutting on the Beaconsfield line
He's watching me watching the trains go by
And they move so fast. -- Boy, they really fly
He's still watching me watching you
   watching the trains go by.
And the way he stares -- feel like locking my door
   and pulling my phone from the wall
His eyes, like lights from a laser burn
   making my hair stand -- making the goose-bumps crawl.
He's watching me watching you watching him watching me
I'm watching you watching him watching me watching
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

At the cocktail party with Bucks Fizz in my hand
   I feel him watching me watching the girls go by
And they move so smooth without even trying
He's still watching we watching the trains go by
And the crowd thins and he moves up close
   but he doesn't speak
I have to look the other way
But curiosity gets the better part of me and I peek
Got two drinks in his hand -- see his lips move
   what the Hell's he trying to say
He's watching me watching you watching him watching me
I'm watching you watching him watching me watching

Take you away for my magic ship
I have two hundred deisel horses thundering loud
Sea birds call your name and the mountains on fire
As the summer lightning cuts the sky like a hot wire
And you ride on the swell and your heart is alive
   think I'll make you my seal driver.
I'm no great looker, I'm no fast shakes
I'll give you a steady push on
   a six knot simmering high tide
I can hold us down -- keep our head to the wind
Or let us roll on the broadside, cold spray flying in
And we'll ride on the swell and our hearts are alive
   let me make you my seal driver.
I could captain you if you'd crew for me
   follow white flecked spindrift --
   float on a moon-kissed sea
Could you fancy me as a pirate bold
Or a longship Viking warrior with the old gods on his side
Well, I'm an inshore man and I'm nobody's hero
But I'll make you tight for a windy night and a dark ride
Let me take you in hand and bring you alive
   Going to make you my seal driver

Along the coast road, by the headland
   the early lights of winter glow
I'll pour a cup to you my darling
Raise it up -- say Cheerio.
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1984

 1. Lap of Luxury
 2. Under Wraps #1
 3. European Legasy
 4. Later, That Same Evening
 5. Saboteur
 6. Radio Free Moscow
 7. Nobody's Car
 8. Heat
 9. Under Wraps #2
10. Paparazzi
11. Apogee
                      ** Jethro Tull ***.

                           (p) 1987

Last-modified: Fri, 16 Aug 1996 21:15:52 GMT