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20 Years of Jethro Tull

© Ian Anderson 1988


Stormy Monday Blues

I said they call it Stormy Monday
But I said [...]
I said they call it Stormy Monday
[...]
Wednesday's full of sorrow,
I said that Thursday's oh-so, it's oh-so-sad. It's oh-so-sad.

I said lord, lord, why don't you have mercy,
You gotta have mercy on me.

I been trying to find my woman,
Won't you bring her home to me?

I said they call it stormy Monday.


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.

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.


I'm Your Gun

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' model, 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.)
(Drop me, I'm your gun.)

Maxim and Browning, they helped me along.
[???] thrill to my song.
Now one of me exists for each 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.)
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.)


Down At The End Of Your Road

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.
Under dark I plan my most devious practices which
You might not think very nice.

Designing a system to reverse your plumbing
Welling up as you sit on your private throne.
All kind 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 larks wings should set your tongues 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.
And I live down the end of your road.
Down at the end of your road.
Yes I live down the end of your road.
I live down at the end of your road.
I live down at the end of your road.


Coronach

Grey the mist, cold the dawn,
Cruel the sea and stern the shore.
Brave the man who sets his course
For Albion.

Sweet the rose, sharp the thorn,
Meek the soil, and proud the corn.
Blessed the lamb that would be born
Within this green and pleasant land.

Coronach.
Coronach.
Coronach.

Coronach.
Coronach.
Coronach.

Brown furrow shine beneath the rain-washed blue
Bright crystal streams from eagle mountains born.
Fortune has smiled on those who wake anew
Within this fortress nature builds to stay the hand of war.

With the wind from the east
Came the first of those that tread
Upon this shore, this throne of kings,
This realm, this new Jerusalem.

Coronach.
Coronach.
Coronach.

Coronach. (Coronach.)
Coronach. (Coronach.)
Coronach. (Coronach.)

(Note: Exactly what the chorus is saying is unclear. The best suggestion I've
heard is that it's the gaelic pronunciation of "Coronach".)


Summerday Sands

I once met a girl with the life in her hands
And we lay together on the summerday sands.

I gave her my raincoat and told her "Lady be good,"
And we made truth together when no one else would.

I smiled through her fingers and ran the dust through her hands.
The hourglass of reason on the summerday sands.

We sat as the sea caught fire,
Waited as the flames grew higher
In her eyes.
In her eyes.

We watched the eagle borne,
Wings clipped and feathers shorn,
But we saw him rise.
We saw him rise
Over summerday sands.

Came the ten o'clock curfew, she said, "I must start my car.
I'm staying with someone I met last night in a bar."

I called from my wave-top, "At least tell me your name."
She smiled from a wheel spin and said, "It's all the same."

I thought for a minute, jumped back on dry land.
Left one set of footprints on summerday sands.

I once met a girl with the life in her hands
And we lied together on the summerday sands.
On the summerday sands.
On the summerday sands.
On the summerday sands.
On the summerday sands.


Too Many Too

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't lose.
We've got too many too.
Yes too many too.

Too much sunshine. Too many drops of rain.
Too many equal and average children will all grow up the same.
Too many [???] politicians holding too many views.
Too many questions but there are answers too few.

Too many lives each cat can't lose.
We've got too many too.
Yes too many too.

If I were a liar, yes, and you were a cheat,
There would be many places where we all could meet,
Too many temples where we could worship the beast,
Where he would think he had the most - in fact he has the least.

Too many lives each cat can't lose.
I've got too many too.
Yes too many too.
I've got too many too. (Too many too.)
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.


March The Mad Scientist

What would you like for Christmas?
A new polarity?
You're binary and desperate
To deal in high figures that lick us
With a hotter flame.
Look - each and every one the same.

In March the mad scientist
Brings a new change
In ever-dancing colors.

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 he knew.

And April is summer-bound,
And February's blue.
And no one stops to see the colors.


Pan Dance

[Instrumental]


Strip Cartoon

Fish & chips and paper lips and a rainy pavement,
Soho lights and another night thinking of you.
Black cat sat on a wall and set me talking,
Suggesting ways and means that I might well smile
As you leave the place where you work until twelve-thirty
And the policemen nods as you pass along his beat.
Sweaty feet, [???], we're all in the same game lately.
Life's no bowl of cherries; it's a black and white strip cartoon.

I've been warned that you and your friends are crazy.
[???] the gentlemen,
Who, while they drool, trying to keep cool, spill their scotch & water.
But I'm not that way, I must say I'd much prefer to see
You in your texturized rubber rainwear around twelve-thirty.
Come and play, shades of grey, in my black & white strip cartoon.

[Chorus:]
Strip cartoon is all I'm after,
Strip cartoon is all I crave.
So come to my place around twelve-thirty,
`Cause I'm a leading politician at a dangerous age.

[Repeat Chorus]

Strip cartoon.
[Repeat Chorus]


King Henry's Madrigal

[Instrumental]


A Stitch In Time

I work in dark factories,
A cog in a big wheel,
Driving grey satanic mills
And weaving sad stories.

And faceless masters,
Oh, they pay me plenty:
Crumbs from their luncheon bags
Harsh wine from bottles of empties.

[Chorus:]
"A stitch in time saves nine,"
Sang cock-robin from the wall.
"It's an early bird catches the worm;
Show a little pride before you fall."

So I flew to the south sun
With birds of a feather,
To drink in the warm nights
And tell of fine weather.

[Repeat Chorus]

Listen all you young folk:
Your lives on the time-table.
Clocking on twenty-one;
Fly while you're able.

[Repeat Chorus]

[Repeat Chorus]


17

I remember when we had a lot of things to do
Impressed by the word we read, and the heroes that we knew.

[???], a dream of our own making,
could late lose to whatever time would bring.

We were seventeen, and the [???]
[???], and a [???] to have to prove.

[???] supper time, you were going 'round in circles now,
wishing you were 17, at 21 it was a long time.

And now here you are, you're lost in your own excuse,
The circle's getting smaller every day, [???] fifty years.

So stay the way you are, and keep your head down to the same old ground,
just paint your picture until you find the circle's better than an open line.

Yes stay the way you are, I got a circle just the same as yours,
It may be bigger but I'm going to lose. Oh, it's the bloody young man we all
knew.


One For John Gee

[Instrumental]


Aeroplane

Flying, made of sticks and paper.
(Aeroplane.)
Dying, is the wind not climbing?
(My aeroplane.)
Blowing, and going somewhere high;
In the evening tumblin' down,
But it's surely been up there.
Crying, want to live my life as my aeroplane

Sighing, in the [sun time, but softly?]
(My aeroplane.)
Lonely, but only until it comes down
Where there's people running 'round.
But it's surely been up there,
Flying.
(My aeroplane.)
(My aeroplane.)
(My aeroplane.)
(My aeroplane.)


Sunshine Day

Woke up this morning to look at things in their funny way.
Why can't they be like they used to be only yesterday?
Ooh, bring back my sunshine day.

I look at things that once were mine with such despair.
Why do the things I say only fall on empty air?
Ooh, bring back my sunshine day.

My mind cried, "Bring back my sunshine day."

I say the things I used to say, but they don't seem right.
Why does this world seem like the darkest endless night?
Ooh, bring back my sunshine day.
Bring back my sunshine day.


Lick Your Fingers Clean

I'll see you at the weighing in,
When your life some total's made.
And you'll set your wealth in Godly deeds
Against the sins you've laid.

So you place your final burden
On your heart-rest next of kin,
Send the chamber pod 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 cruising by too late.

And I say, "Really should make a deal,"
As he offers round the hat.
Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean.

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 [???] high
And cover you with mud.

And he'll say, "Really should make a deal,"
As he offers 'round the hat.
Well you better lick your fingers clean,
Well I'll thank you all for that.


The Chateau D'Isaster Tapes


Scenario

In our [???] of ancient times,
Stood a lone friend of mine.

Reflected by the ever-burning sigh
Of God, who happened by.

And in the dawn, there came the song
Of some sweet lady singing in his ear,
"Your God has gone,
And from now on
You'll have to learn to hate the things you fear."

We want to know, are we inside the womb
Of passion plays and by righteousness consumed,
Or just in life's contentment of our souls?

And so began the age of man.
Well he left his body in the sand.

The glass is raised to a god of high,
Smiled upon them from the sky.

So take the stage,
Spin down the ages, loose the passion,
Spill the rage upon your son
Who holds the gun up to your head,
The play's begun.

And God the director smells a rat,
Pulls another rabbit from his hat,
Sniffs the air, and says, "That's that, I'm going."


Audition

The actor's milling helplessly,
The script is blowing out to sea,
But what the hell, we didn't even pass an audition.

The lines you'll have to improvise,
The words are written in the eyes
Of politicians who despise their fathers.

And so, the play necessitates
That all you boys participate
In fierce competition to eliminate each other.

And who is on the way to war,
get right the next field score.
But the road [???]
his glow is really nothing.
Men of religion on the lake
let know they undertake
to make you wise for God's own sake
and not another.

While ladies get their bedding done
To win themselves a bouncing son,
But bad girls do it for the fun of just being.

And me I'm here to sing along
And I'm not concerned with the right and wrongs,
Just asking questions that belong without an answer.

The God is laughing up his sleeve
As he pours himself another cup of tea,
And he waves goodbye to you and me, at least for now.


No Rehearsal

Did you learn your lines today
well there is no rehearsal
The tickets have all been sold
For tomorrow's matinee.

There's a telegram [from the writer?],
But there is no rehearsal.
The electrician has been told
To make the spotlights brighter.

And there's one seat in the circle,
Five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there,
But the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
Blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner
Is sorry that he came.

There was one seat in the circle,
Five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there,
But the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
Blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner
Is sorry that he came.

When the bomb that's in the dressing room
Blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner
Is sorry that he came.

Did you learn your lines today?
Well, there is no rehearsal.
The interval will last until
The ice cream lady melts away.

The twelve piece orchestra are here,
But there is no rehearsal.
The first violinist [hands a shield?],
He's gone deaf in both ears.

Well the scenery is colorful,
But the paint is so damn thin.
You see the wall behind is crumbling,
And the stage door is ripped in.

But the audience keep arriving
'Till they're standing in the wings,
And we take the final curtain call,
And the ceiling crashes in.


Beltane

Have you ever stood in the April wood
And called the new year in
While are the phantoms of three thousand years
Rise as the dead leaves spin?

There's a snap in the grass behind your feet
And a tap upon your shoulder,
And the thin wind crawls along your neck;
It's just the old gods getting older.

And the Kestral drops like a far-off shot
From a red cloud hanging high.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.

Have you ever loved a lover
Of the old elastic truth,
And doted on the daughter
In the ministry of youth?

Thrust your head between the breasts
Of the fertile [???]
Taken up the cause of love
For the sake of [???].

While the kisses drop like a far-off shot
From soft lips in the rain.
A-come-a Beltane.

A happy love new year to you,
And you're the sons of for one more day
[???].

Have you walked around your parks and town
So [nice and?] orderly,
While the fires are burned on the hills upturned
In far-off wild country,

And felt the chill on your windowsill
As the green man comes around
With his walking cane of sweet hazel
Brings it crashing down,

Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites?
But its just your groaning pains.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.
A-come-a Beltane.


Crossword

Walking on air, shoulder and head above you.
Down in the street, black canyons walking through
Hooded sad eyes, fetched on your shuffle shoes.
Life is a clue in the crossword.

Typewriter turk, telephone terror takes
Time to wind down, pushbutton finger shakes
City of dreams back to your quiet nightmare.
Life is a clue in the crossword.

Working to rule in your own time.
Drag yourself home to your star shine 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 he left on the seat beside you.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.

Life is a clue in the crossword.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.


Saturation

They left me leaving my house on fire
And me running round. Got out through the window.
While [faint?] little skirts of fate was not my idea of fun,
I'll jump to it gladly.

The town was filled with smoke and haze.
Came to my senses just too late
To realize that all I ever owned
was borrowed [???] having sown.
Really, nothing ever belongs to anyone.

They burned my books and they broke my car
and gave the dog to a man who used it for breathing.
They felled my trees and they tramped flowers
and threw the kitchen into minute pools.

The same things done to other men
had made them run away from the city.

[???] case I joined them there
and [reeling?] air spent the night with these new friends.

The town was filled with smoke and haze.
Came to my senses just too late
To realize that all I ever owned
Was borrowed [???] having sown.
Really, nothing ever belongs to anyone.


Jack-A-Lynn

Cold aeroplanes, slow boats, warm trains
Remind me of Jack-A-Lynn.
Lush hotels and pretty girls
Won't share the misty mood I'm in.
Silly, sad, I've never had
To write this before.
Oh, Jack-A-Lynn.

Funny how long nights alone
And 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 the Jack-A-Lynn.
Cold black cats in policeman's hats
Nosing where the mice have been.

And the lonely hours, forgiving now,
And I'm far, far from home.
A Jack-A-Lynn.
Jack-Jack-A-Lynn.


Motoreyes

Out on the fast freeway loving along through a buildup and [masquerade?]
Stringing fast through the cloud of spray goes the high performance motor
queen.

And she looks round at me, reflecting the [???] in her motoreyes.
And now the chase is on. I know who'll be the loser: me.

Sees the [???] they go back on the street through the late theater crowds.
And the stoplights go and we're cruising side-by-side, still coming round.

And she looks round again, her motoreyes ought to tell me when.
Put your right foot to the floor, show me she's no slow woman.

She takes her cafe [???], smokes small cigars, showing just a touch of thigh.
(Sigh.)
And sips her whisky straight, she stays up late, kiss the morning bye-bye.
Now we're out of town. Got to shake her down if I can stay along.
Got my blue light on. Gonna [rend her net?] with my siren song.

Push over to the side. Her motoreyes are staring wide.
She flashes her at me, and makes a bigger fool of me.


Blues Instrumental (Untitled)

[Instrumental]


Rhythm In Gold

I have to call you up.
Think I've seen a vision of rhythm in gold.
[???] move that way.
No [???] would dare to be so bold.

Must tell the boys to follow you,
Catch you where you go underground.
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 [???]

There's nothing I can do for you
That would really matter much anyway.
You belong to everyone.
Rhythm in gold's another part you play.

Put the boys on you,
sabotage your night alone.


Part Of The Machine

Everybody's jumping on the circus train.
Well some jump high, some jump off again.
And the razz-ma-tazz is rolling, women folk are unveiled.
All truths to light all cross his name.

Even high where the eagle circles,
Where he keeps his tail feathers clean,
And wonders "Am I still a free bird,
Or just a part of the machine?"

They hitch the cargo baggage and they roll out west,
All the picks in the pockets of their Sunday best.
Shaking hands, kissing babies for all that they're worth.
Oh, they promise you gold, promise heaven on Earth.

Still that old bald eagle circles,
It's not the first time that he's seen
His reflection in the eyes of innocence.
He's become just another part of the machine.

I wish I had an eagle like you
To wake up to.
You could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky
Up above the whole machine.

Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.

Smart guys out running the whole man tribe
Up in the mountains where the eagle flies.
Wouldn't take that job offered on a plate.
You gotta fly with the eagle but he won't wait.

Looking down on the smoke, on the factories,
Until the truth creeps up unseen.
They see themselves in the faces of their children
and realize they too are part of the machine.
Part of the machine.

I wish I had an eagle like you to wake up to.
You could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky.
Hey let's be part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
And I want to be part of your machine.
Well I want to be part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
Part of your machine.


Mayhem, Maybe

From the working nights the village round the old church becomes scary town.
[All curtains?], windows and bolted doors, but never a eye to see.
As us fairy folks [???] the hill, never caught us and never will,
Pulling roses and daffodils. Mayhem in the high degree.

The blacksmith chased us all to ground.
He searched all night; we were never found.
The tinker boys of 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 find. Mayhem in the high degree

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

[???]
We ride the thin winds of the night and set our spirits free
We terrify the [men enfold?], the fox is still far too bold
So we strung him up [???] neatly folded. Mayhem, maybe.


Overhang

Good morning gentlemen [???] and frowns.
Too much everything and I can't recall, did I let you down?
Nobody will answer me, make me feel that I want to die,
And 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 'bout eight feet tall?
No safety net to break my fall.

Oh, no, must've done it last night again.
Oh, no, caught out on the overhang again.

Been out on the overhang.
Out on the overhang.

Watching demons and spirits glide, heading out to the nearest star.
Better lead me back to the bar.
Oh, no, I'd do it tonight again.
Oh, no, crawled out on the overhang again.

Been out on the overhang.
Crawling out of the overhang.
Out of the overhang.
Out of the overhang.
Out of the overhang.
Out of the overhang.
Out of the overhang.


Kelpie

There was a warm wind with the high tide
On the south of the hill
Where the 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 [cruel?]?

I 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.

I 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
And they're still not far below.

I 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.

I 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.


Living In These Hard Times

The bomb's in the china, the fat's in the fire,
There's no turkey left on the table.
The commuters return on the six-o'clock flier.
There's 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 mess
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 laugh and we sing and try to bring
A pound from your pocket -- good-day to you!
Oh, these hard times.

The politician sat on the wall
And prayed with the union game.
Someone slapped the wrists on our deficit;
Not a penny left to our name.

Oh, the times are hard and the credit's 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.

Well the fly's in the milk and the cat's in the stew,
Another bun in the oven, oh, what to do?
We laugh and we sing and try to bring
A pound from your pocket -- good-day to you!
Oh, these hard times.

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 mess,
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 laugh and we sing and try to bring
A pound from your pocket -- good-day to you!
Oh, these hard times.


1996 - 2014 Willerup Brothers