Artist: Jethro Tull Album: A Little Light Music {1992}

Right

In the morning gonna get my things together
Packing up and I�m leaving this place
I don't believe you'll cry, there'll be a smile upon your face

I didn't think how much you'd hurt me
Well, that's something that I laugh about
Bring in the good times, baby, and let the bad times out
Right, yeah

That old sun keeps on shining
Yeah, but someday it won't shine for you
Well, in the morning I'll be leaving and I'll leave your mother too

One, two, three, four
Yeah

Thank you and good evening, nice to see - how do you do

When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day
And you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say
Well, don't you fret, don't you fear - I will give you good cheer
Life's a long song, life's a long song, life's a long song
If you wait then your plate I will fill

As the verses unfold and your soul suffers the long day
And the twelve o'clock gloom spins the room, you struggle on your way
Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry, lick the dust from your eye
Life's a long song, life's a long song, life's a long song
We will meet in the sweet light of dawn

As the Baker Street train spills your pain all over your new dress
And the symphony sounds underground put you under duress
Well, don't you squeal as the heel grinds you under the wheels
Life's a long song, life's a long song, life's a long song
But the tune ends too soon for us all

But the tune ends too soon for us all, yeah


Thanks

Back in eighty-four, I think it was
We toyed with the world of synthesizers and technology
And then decided it was better just to keep Dave


INSTRUMENTAL

This is called Rocks On The Road, ah ha


There's a black cat down on the quayside
Ship's lights, green eyes glowing in the dark
Two young cops handing out a beating
Know how to hurt and leave no mark
Yeah, down in the half-lit bar of the hotel
There's a call for the last round of the day
Push back the stool, take that elevator ride
Fall in bed and kick my shoes away, kick my shoes away, kick my shoes away
Rocks on the road, yeah

I can't sleep through the wild sound of the city
Hear a car full of young boys heading for a fight
Long distance telephone keeps ringing out engaged
Wonder who you're talking with tonight, talking with tonight, who you talking with tonight
Rocks on the road, yeah

Tired plumbing wakes me in the morning
Shower runs hot, runs cold, playing with me
I'm up for the down side, life's a bitch and all that stuff
So, come and shake some apples from my tree
Had to pay for my minibar madness
Itemized phone bill overload
Well, now, how about some heavy rolling
Move these rocks on the road, on the road, rocks on the road - yeah

Crumbs on the breakfast table and a million other little things to spoil my day
How about a little light music to chase it all away, to chase it all away

There's a black cat down on the quayside
Ship's lights, green eyes glowing in the dark
Two young cops handing out a beating
Know how to hurt and leave no mark
Yeah, down in the half-lit bar of the hotel
There's a call for the last round of the day
Push back the stool, take that elevator ride
Fall in bed and kick my shoes away, kick my shoes away, kick my shoes away
Rocks on the road
Kick my shoes away, kick my shoes away
Rocks on the road, yeah

Tip-toes in silence round my bed
And quiets the raindrops overhead

With her everlasting smile
She stills my fever for a while
Oh, nursie dear
I'm glad you're here
To brush away my pain
One, two, three, two, two

With her everlasting smile
Yeah, she stills my fever for a while
Oh, nursie dear
I'm glad you're here
To brush away my pain

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end, drank his ale too light
And 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 was too young to die
Yes, he was too old to rock 'n' roll, but he was too young to die

But he was too young to die


Oh, thank you

Thank you very much, that was Too Old To Rock And Roll and, uh
That was the reggae version of Too Old To Rock And Roll
Because Martin has just returned from the Carribean - Saint, no, it's not Saint Lucia, that was me
Um, Antigua, Antigua you went on holiday to spend your money - what a bummer, eh
But he met lots of fantastic women, Martin is a famous womanizer
Martin, each night, each night Martin has over two hundred women in his bed
Sorry, say bed, two hundred women in his mind, sorry, in his mind, in his mind


There's a haze on the skyline, to help me on my way
And there's a note on the telephone, some roses on a tray
And the motorway's stretching right out to us all
As I pull on my old wings - one white duck on your wall
Isn't it just too damn real
One white duck on your wall, one duck on your wall

Catch a ride on your violin, strung upon your bow
And I'll float on your melody, sing your chorus soft and low
There's a picture-view postcard to say that I called
And you can see from the fireplace one white duck on your wall
Isn't it just too damn real
One white duck on your wall, one duck on your wall, one duck on your wall

My first and last time with you and we had some fun
I went walking through the woods, now, yes, and I kissed you once
Oh, I want to see you soon, but I wonder how
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now

I spent a long time looking, yeah, for a game to play
My luck should be so bad now to turn out this way
Yeah, I had to leave today just when I thought I'd found you
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now

My first and last time with you, yes, and we had some fun
Went walking through the woods, now, yes, and I kissed you once
Oh, I had to leave today just when I thought I'd found you
It was a new day yesterday, it was a new day yesterday
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now

There were three men, came out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow - John Barleycorn must die
Well, they�ve plowed and they�ve sown, they�ve harrowed him in, thrown clods upon his head, yeah
Till these three men were satisfied John Barleycorn was dead

They�ve let him lie for a long, long time, till the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprang up his head and so amazed them all
Well, they�ve let him lie till mid-summers day, till he looked both pale and worn, oh
And little Sir John has grown a long, long beard and so become a man
Well, they�ve hired men with the sides so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They rolled him and tied him around the waist, suffering him most barbarously
Well, they hired men with the sharp pitch forks to break him to the heart, yeah, oh
And the loader, he has served him worse than that for he�s bound him to the cart

Well, they wheeled him around and around the field till they came unto a barn
And there they made their solemn oath concerning of Barleycorn
Well, they hired men with the crab tree sticks to split him skin from bone, yeah, yeah
But the miller, he has served him worse than that for he�s ground him between two stones

Well, there�s beer all in the barrow and brandy in the glass, yeah
But little old Sir John, with his nut brown bowl, proved the strongest man at last, oh
John Barleycorn, oh, grow him up, grow him up

Well, now the huntsman, well, he can�t hunt the fox, nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker, he can�t mend his parts without John Barleycorn
Yeah, John Barleycorn, ooh, yeah John Barleycorn, Barleycorn, Barleycorn
Yeah, John Barleycorn

A one, two, three, two, two, three


INSTRUMENTAL

Christmas time, when really we should remember this is a time for spiritual uplift
A time for oneness with the universe and Donavon
It is not a time for heavy drinking, overeating and casual sex with farm animals
That's out of the question - so be warned, David Pegg
This is a piece, um, called A Christmas Song
David Mattacks on the glockenspeil
One, two, three


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 laugh when I tell you to take a running jump
You�re missing the point I'm sure does not need making
The 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�ve just messed up your thoughtless pleasures
Remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song

Hey, Santa - pass us that bottle, will you

From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you
You won't remember the long nights, coffee bars and black tights
And white thighs in shop windows where blonde assistants fully fashioned a world
Made of dummies with no mummies or daddies to reject them
When bombs were banned every Sunday and the shadows played FBI
And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture, sat in the station sharing wet dreams

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
Now, I didn't care, friend, I wasn't there, friend
If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again
From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you

Winds howled, rains spit down
All these nights playing precious games
Cheap hotel in some seaboard town
Closed down for the winter and whispered names
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea
Snapped our heels half-heartedly
How come you know better than me that this is not love
No, this is not love

Empty drugstore postcards freeze
Sunburst images of summers gone
Think I see us in these promenade days
Before we learned October's song
Out on the headland, one gale-whipped tree
Curious, head bent to see
How come you know better than me that this is not love
No, this is not love, this is not love, yeah

How come you know better than me
And how come you know better than me
How come you know better than me that this is not love, this is not love

Down to the sad south, smokey plumes
Mark that real world city home
Broken spells and silent gloom
Ooze from that concrete honeycomb
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea
Snapped our heels half-heartedly
And how come you know better than me that this is not love
No, this is not love, this is not love
This is not love, this is not love, this is not love

INSTRUMENTAL

INSTRUMENTAL

In the shuffling madness of the locomotive breath
Runs the all-time loser, headlong to his death
Well, he feels the piston scraping, steam breaking on his brow
Old Charlie, he stole the handle and the train, it won�t stop going
No way to slow down, 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
Well, he�s crawling down the corridor on his hands and knees
Old Charlie, he stole the handle and the train, it won�t stop going
No way to slow down, no way to slow down

He hears the silence howling, yes, he catches angels as they fall
And the all-time winner has got him by the balls
Well, he picks up Gideon's Bible, yes, it�s open at page one
I think that God, He stole the handle and the train, it won�t stop going
No way to slow down, no way to slow down, no way to slow down
No way to slow down, no way to slow down, no way to slow down
No way to slow down, no way to slow down, no way to slow down
No way to slow down, no way to slow down, no way to slow down
No way to, no way to, no way to slow down


Thank you very much boys and girls
Been very kind, very understanding, very tolerant
And we are very old, but thank you so much for coming
We had a lovely time, see you next time, bye, bye from