Jethro Tull

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Black Sunday"

"Black Sunday"

Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
with freezing rains melting and no trains running
and sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
and my seat rocking from legs not quite matching
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching
Black Sunday falls one day too soon

The taxi that takes me will be moving too quickly
My suitcases simply too full for the closing
of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry
Two best-selling paper backs chosen at random ---
no sign of sales-persons to whom I might hand them
Black Sunday falls one day too soon

And down at the airport are probably waiting
a few thousand passengers, overbooked seating
Time long suspended in transit-lounge traumas ---
connections broken and Special Branch waiting
conspicuously standing in holiday clothing
Black Sunday falls one day too soon

Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy
Down to the gate with the old mood upon me
Get out and chase the small immortality
born in the minute of my next returning
Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning
Homecoming one day too soon

And back at the house there's a grey sky a-tumbling
Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling
Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing
Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving
Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving
...one day too soon

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Broadford Bazaar"

"Broadford Bazaar"

Dirty white caravans down our road, sailing.
Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake.
With hot, red-faced drivers, horns flattened, fists whaling,
Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake.

And it's ``All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.''
There's home-dyed woolens, and wee plastic (Cuillins?)
(blessed?) (Cuchulains?)
[Cuchulain == mythical Irish hero --- wee plastic Cuchulains?]

The day of the Broadford Bazaar.

Out of the north, no oil-rigs are drifting.
And jobs for the many are down to the few.
Blue-bottle choppers, they visit no longer.
Like flies to the jampots, they were just passing through.

And it's ``All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car''
Where once stood oil-rigs so phallic
There's only swear-words in Gaelic
To say at the Broadford bazaar.

All kinds of people come down for the opening.
Crofters and cottiers, white (wild?) settlers galore.
[Crofter == farmer renting land]
[Cottier == farmer renting land]
And up on the hill, there's an old sheep that's dying,
But it had two new lambs born just a fortnight before.

And it's ``All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.''
We'll take pounds, francs and dollars from the well-heeled,
And stamps from the Green Shield.
The day of the Broadford Bazaar.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Broadsword"

"Broadsword"

I see a dark sail on the horizon set under a black
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.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Budapest"

"Budapest"

I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile
in Budapest... hot night in Budapest.

We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium...
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage...
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.

You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife.
Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life
(if not the money).
Hot night in Budapest.

She bent down to fill the ice box
and stuffed some more warm white wine in
like some weird unearthly vision
wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin.
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle.
But the boys and me were heading west
so we left her to the late crew
and a hot night in Budapest.
It was a hot night in Budapest.

She didn't speak much English language...
(she didn't speak much anyway).
She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich
and she poured sweet wine before we played.

Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now.

I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant.
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall.
But she didn't grace our table.
In fact, she wasn't there at all.
Yes, and her legs went on forever.
Like staring up at infinity.
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
and she didn't care to be
that night in Budapest.
Hot night in Budapest.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Bungle In The Jungle"

"Bungle In The Jungle"

Walking through forests of palm tree apartments ---
scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents
down by the waterhole --- drunk every Friday ---
eating their nuts --- saving their raisins for Sunday.
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows ---
they're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows.

Let's bungle in the jungle --- well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.

Just say a word and the boys will be right there:
with claws at your back to send a chill through the night air.
Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder?
Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder.
I'll write on your tombstone, ``I thank you for dinner.''
This game that we animals play is a winner.

Let's bungle in the jungle --- well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.

The rivers are full of crocodile nasties
and He who made kittens put snakes in the grass.
He's a lover of life but a player of pawns ---
yes, the King on His sunset lies waiting for dawn
to light up His Jungle
as play is resumed.
The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"By Kind Permission Of"

"By Kind Permission Of"

[Introduction:]
Please, let's have a big welcome for Jethro Tull.

Whoop!
Hello. Hang on, press on. Be back with you in a minute.
I'd better not open this now because it might contain contraband.
We'll give it to John to supplement his camels. He dropped on his
head when he was very small. We occasionally cut his fingernails off
and smoke them. This is a... a song about... about everything.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Cheap Day Return"

"Cheap Day Return"

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.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Cheerio"

"Cheerio"

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.

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Christmas Song"

"Christmas Song"

Once in Royal David's City stood a lonely cattle shed,
where a mother held her baby.
You'd do well to remember the things He later said.
When you're stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties,
you'll just laugh when I tell you to take a running jump.
You're missing the point I'm sure does not need making
that Christmas spirit is not what you drink.

So how can you laugh when your own mother's hungry,
and how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I just messed up your thoughtless pleasures,
remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.

(Hey! Santa! Pass us that bottle, will you?)

fox69 · 22.01.2016

"Cold Wind To Valhalla"

"Cold Wind To Valhalla"

And ride with us young bonny lass ---
with the angels of the night.
Crack wind clatter --- flesh rein bite on an out-size
unicorn.
Rough-shod winging sky blue flight on a cold wind
to Valhalla.
And join with us please --- Valkyrie maidens cry
above the cold wind to Valhalla.
Break fast with the gods. Night angels serve
with ice-bound majesty.
Frozen flaking fish raw nerve ---
in a cup of silver liquid fire.
Moon jet brave beam split ceiling swerve and light
the old Valhalla.
Come join with us please --- Valkyrie maidens cry
above the cold wind to Valhalla.
The heroes rest upon the sighs of Thor's trusty
hand maidens.
Midnight lonely whisper cries,
``We're getting a bit short on heroes lately.''
Sword snap fright white pale goodbyes in the
desolation of Valhalla.
And join with us please --- Valkyrie maidens ride
empty-handed on the cold wind to Valhalla.