Jethro Tull Album

From early days of infancy, through trembling years
of youth, long murky middle-age and final hours
long in 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 tales 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.

Beastie

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's 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
your shoulder. He's the 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.

We travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits,
gliding cold-eyed march towards the dawn 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.

Let's break the journey now on some lonely road.
Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload.
Talk 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 courses.
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 been 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 a holy stink.

Somebody wake me. I've been 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.

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 we're 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?
And 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; that's all for now, oh, and never
mind the words just hum 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.

Take a hand and take a bow.
You played for me; that's all for now, oh, and never
mind the words just hum along and keep on going.
Walk on slowly --- don't look behind you.
Don't say goodbye, love. I won't remind you.

i see a dark sail on the horizon
set under a blak 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 roundhouseon 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 hearth 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-believe
for her white knight to appear.
Pusy 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.
Pussy Willow down fur-lined avenue,
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming,
cutting dreams down to size again.
She longs for the East and a pale dress flowing
an apartment in old Mayfair.
Or 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. Hear her typewriter humming,
cutting dreams down to size again.
Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow.

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 Stares.

At the cocktail party with a 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 me watching you 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 Stares.
He's watching me watching you watching him
watching me.
He's watching me watching you watching
the trains go by.
He's watching me watching you watching him
watching me.
He's watching me watching you watching him watching me.
He's watching me watching you watching him watching me watching him watching.

Take you away for my magic ship.
I have two hundred deisel horses thundering loud.
Sea birds call your name and the mountain's on fire
as the summer lightening 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 moonkissed 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 costroad, by the headland
the early lights of winter glow
i'll pour a cup to you my darling
raise it up - say cheerio

Through long December nights we talk in words of rain or snow,
while you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go.
Why not spare a thought this day for those who have no flame
to warm their bones at Christmas time?
Say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.

Now as the last broad oak leaf falls, we beg: consider this:
there's some who have no coin to save for turkey, wine or gifts.
No children's laughter round the fire, no family left to know.
So lend a warm and a helping hand:
say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.
As holly pricks and ivy clings, your fate is none too clear.
The Lord may find you wanting, let your good fortune disappear.
All homely comforts blown away and all that's left to show
is to share your joy at Christmas time
with Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.

Through long December nights we talk in words of rain or snow,
while you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go.
Why not spare a thought this day for those who have no flame
to warm their bones at Christmas time?
Say Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow.

Cold aeroplanes, slow boats, warm trains
remind me of Jack-A-Lynn.
Lush hotels and pretty girls
won't cheer the misty mood I'm in.
Silly, sad, I've never had to write this before,
oh, Jack-A-Lynn.

Funny how long nights allow
thoughts of Jack-A-Lynn.
When phantoms tread around my bed
to offer restless dreams they bring.
And it's just the time and place to find
a sad song to play for Jack-A-Lynn.

Magpies that shriek, old boots that leak
call me to Jack-A-Lynn.
Coal-black cats in policeman's hats
nosing where the mice have been.
And the long miaow's beginning now
and I'm far, far from home and Jack-A-Lynn.
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn

When we're working nights, the village round
the old church becomes scary town.
All curtained windows and bolted doors
but never a eye to see
as us fairy folks sweep from the hill.
Never caught us and never will.
Pulling roses and daffodils
mayhem in the high degree.

The blacksmith chased us all to ground.
They searched all night we were never found.
The tinker boys and the sheriff's men
shaking the tallest tree.
And we sat and watched the women hide.
Laughed so much we split our sides.
Scattered horses that they would ride
mayhem in the high degree.

We crossed through fields of midnight green
often heard but seldom seen.
Tore along hedges,stripping leaves
no-one could quite agree
whether we came from north or south.
We stole the screams from out their mouths
and go where no man would allow
mayhem in the high degree.

Like scaly carp and feathered swan
to nature's world we do belong.
We ride the thin winds of the night
and set dark spirits free.
We terrify the mare and foal.
The fox stood still and far too bold.
So we strung him up, brush neatly folded;
mayhem, maybe.

Too many drivers in too many cars.
Too many lost souls drinking in too many bars.
Too many heroes stepping on too many toes.
Too many yes-men nodding when they really mean no.
Too many lives each cat can lose,
we've got too many too.
Too many too.

Too much sunshine. Too many drops of rain.
Too many equal and average children who will all grow up the same.
Too many fireside politicians holding too many views.
Too many questions but there are answers too few.
Too many lives each cat can lose,
we've got too many too.

If I were a liar yes, and you were a cheat,
there would be too many places where we all could meet.
Too many temples where we could worship the beast.
Where he who thinks he had the most in fact has the least.
Too many lives each cat can lose,
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.

Good morning, gentlemen. Why the uneasy frowns?
Too much everything and I can't recall. Did I let you down?
Nobody will answer me. Makes me feel that I want to die.
My mind is inclined to lie.
Oh no, think I did it last night again.
Oh no, been out on the overhang again.

My hotel room was a battleground.
How did I find my way?
My wallet's gone and my jacket's torn.
My memory's a hazy grey.
Do I seem to remember now, two creatures about eight feet tall?
No safety net to break my fall.
Oh no, must have done it last night again.
Oh no, crawled out on the overhang again.
Been out on the overhang.
Been out on the overhang.

Watching demons and spirits glide.
Heading out to the nearest star.
Better lead me back to the bar.
Oh no, might do it tonight again.
Oh no, crawled out on the overhang again.
Been out on the overhang.
Crawling out on the overhang.
Been out on the overhang.
Out on the overhang.
Out of the overhang.

I have to call you up. Think I've seen a vision of rhythm in gold.
No cat could ever move that way. No puss would dare to be so bold.
Must tell the boys to follow you.
Catch you where you go to ground.
A lady of means, I can see. Rhythm in gold is getting to me.
What's your name, and where can I find you?

Are you just a rich man's friend, or was it always in the family?
You seem to throw the challenge down, by the way you didn't even look at me.
Put the boys on you. Immobilize your nine-eleven.
There's nothing I could do for you that would really matter much anyway.
You belong to everyone. Rhythm in gold's the number that you play.
Put the boys on you. Sabotage your nine-eleven.

Blew my smoke on a sunny day,
when the first black powder came my way.
Hot lead ball from a muzzle cold
to win fair lady and take your gold.
I know it hardly seems the time (I am your gun)
to talk of blue steel so sublime. (I am your gun)
I can understand your point of view. (I am your gun)
To tell the truth I'd scare me too.

Match, wheel and flintlock, they all caught your eye.
Pearl-handled ladies' models, scaled down to size.
I am the peacemaker, so the theory goes.
But I don't choose the company I keep and it shows.

I am your gun.
Love me, I'm your gun.

Maxim and Browning, they helped me along.
Stoner, Kalashnikov thrilled to my song.
Now one of me exists, for each one of you,
So how can you blame me for the things that I do?

Now I take second place to the motor car(I am your gun)
in the score of killing kept thus far. (I am your gun)
And just remember, if you don't mind (I am your gun)
it's not the gun that kills but the man behind.
I am your gun.
I am your gun.
I am your gun.
I am your gun.

I am your neighbor. I seem most respectable,
But underneath I'm an iniquitous toad.
So many dreadful mishaps have befallen you
down at the end of your road.
And I live down the end of your road.

I'm working on ways to remove you from paradise,
from your striped lawn and your new swimming pool.
I place broken bottles in your geraniums
sabotage your gardening tools.
And I live down the end of your road.

By day I am a real estate gentleman.
I deal in fine properties cheap at the price.
After dark, I plan my most devious practices
which you might think are not very nice.

Designing a system to reverse your plumbing
welling up, as you sit on your private throne.
Will come up all kinds of vile and despicable nasties
you would rather not have in your home.
And I live down the end of your road.

Dispensed loathsome creatures in your drawing room,
Sent doggy poo-poos in your morning mail.
Rat's heads and lark's wings should set your tums turning
and your houses will soon be for sale.
And I live down the end of your road.
Yes, I live down the end of your road.
Well, I live down the end of your road.
I live down the end of your road.
I live down the end of your road.
I live down the end of your road.