Artist: Jethro Tull Album: Live - Bursting Out {1978}

{Italian Intro}
Good evening, sit back, relax and make yourself comfortable
To enjoy an evening with Jethro Tull, Jethro Tull


Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears
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 and there's a chain on the door
And 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, thrust 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
And 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

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

I hear you calling in your sweet dream
Can't hear your daddy's warning cry
You're going back to be all the things you want to be
While in sweet dreams you softly sigh
You hear my voice is calling to be mine again
Live the rest of your life in a day

Get out and get what you can
While your mommy's at home a-sleeping
No time to understand
Cos they lost what they thought they were keeping

No one can see you in your sweet dream
Don't hear you leave to start the car
All wrapped up tightly in the coat you borrowed from me
Your place of resting is not far
You'll hear my voice is calling to be mine again
Live the rest of your life in a day

Get out and get what you can
While your mommy's at home a-sleeping
No time to understand
Cos they lost what they thought they were keeping

Get out and get what you can
While your mommy's at home a-sleeping
No time to understand
Cos they lost what they thought they were keeping

Thank you kindly and good evening to you, hey
This is a song that takes place in the dim and distant past, as it were
In fact so long ago it's damn nearly


In the year one
When you belonged to no one, a-no one
You didn't stand a chance, son
If your pants were undone
Cos you were bred for humanity
And sold to society
One day you'll wake up, wake up in the present day
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be

Skating away, skating away
Skating away on the thin ice of the new day

And as you push off from the shore
Won't you turn your head once more
And make your peace with everyone
And those who choose to stay
Will live just one more day
To do the things they should have done
And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness
You feel you have to pray
Looking for a sign that the Universal Mind has written you
Into the Passion Play

Skating away, skating away
Skating away on the thin ice of the new day

And as you cross the circle line
Well, the ice-wall creaks behind
You're a rabbit on the run
And as the silver splinters fly
In the corner of your eye
Shining in the setting sun
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damn real 
And in the present tense
Or that everybody's on the stage and it seems like you're the only
Person sitting in the audience

Skating away, skating away
Skating away on the thin ice of the new day
Skating away, skating away, skating away

Thank you
A-one, two, three, two, two, three


Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green
With his long tail hanging down
He quietly sits under every tree
In the folds of his velvet gown
He drinks from the empty acorn cup
The dew that dawn sweetly bestows
And taps his cane upon the ground
Signals the snowdrops it's time to grow

It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green
No place to dance, no time for song
He wears the colors of a summer soldier
Carries the green flag all the winter long

Jack, do you never sleep
Does the green still run deep in your heart
Or will these changing times
Motorways, powerlines, keep us apart
Well, I don't think so
I saw some grass growing through the pavements today

The rowan, the oak and the holly tree
Are the charges left for you to groom

Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green
Oh, Jack, please help me through my winter's night
And we are the berries on the holly tree
And the mistlethrush is coming, Jack, put out the light


I thank you

Now then, here's, uh, here's the last of the acoustic songs for the time being
This one, One Brown Mouse an ode to, thank you
Mmm, yes, maybe, good, well, that's good enough, that's good enough - don't strain yourselves
Brum, bum, bum, bumbly, bum, bum, bum it goes - ready, good
A-one, two, three four


Smile your little smile
Take some tea with me awhile
Brush away that black cloud 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'll sit and look
At my ever-open book
One brown mouse sitting in a cage

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
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder
Twitch your whiskers, feel
That you're really real
Another tea time, another day older

Smile your little smile
Take some tea with me awhile
And every day we'll turn another page
Behind your glass we'll sit and look
At our ever-open book
One brown mouse sitting in a cage
One brown mouse sitting in a cage
One brown mouse sitting in a cage

Thanks very much, thank you
Right, we'll have a go at a very old song now
This was, in fact, on our second album, in a blues tempo
The only one we do, I think - not surprising
This one is called it was A New Day Yesterday, but, by god, it's an old day now


My first and last time with you, oh, and we had some fun
Went walking through the woods now, oh, 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, but it's an old day now

Spent a long time looking, oh, for a game to play
But my luck should be so bad now, oh, to turn out this way
Oh, I want to see you soon, but I don't know how
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now

INSTRUMENTAL

Let me bring you songs from the wood
To make you feel much better than you could know - better than you could know
And dust you down from tip to toe - dust you down from tip to toe
To show you how the garden grows - show you how the garden grows
And hold you steady as you go - hold you steady as you
Join the chorus if you can
It'll make of you an honest man

Let me bring you love from the field
Poppies red and roses filled with summer rain
To heal the wound, to still the pain
That threatens again and again
As you drag down every lover's lane
Life's long celebration's here
I'll toast you all in penny cheer

Let me bring you all things refined
Galliards and lute songs served in chilling ale
Greetings, well met fellow, hail
I am the wind to fill your sail
I am the cross to take your nail
A singer of these ageless times
With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes

Songs from the wood, make you feel much better
Songs from the wood, make you feel much better

Now then, let's see if we can spot the over-twenty-fives in the audience
See if you remember this one


Really don't mind if you sit this one out
My words but a whisper, your deafness a shout
I may make you feel but I can't make you think
Your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink
So, you ride yourselves over the fields
And you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels, yes
To be thick as a brick - rock on

And the sand castle virtues are all swept away
In the tidal destruction, the moral melee
The elastic retreat rings the close of play, hey
As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way
But your new shoes are worn at the heels
And your suntan does rapidly peel
And your wise men don't know how it feels, yes
To be thick as a brick

And the love that I feel is so far away
I'm a bad dream that I just had today
And you shake your head, yes, and said it's a shame

See there, a son is born and we pronounce him ready to fight
There are black-heads on his shoulders and he pees himself in the night
We'll make a man of him, put him to a trade
Teach him to play Monopoly and how to sing in the rain

The poet and the painter casting shadows on the water
As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea
The doer and the thinker, no allowance for the other
As the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed
The home fire burning, the kettle almost boiling
But the master of the house is far away
The horses stamping, their warm breath clouding
In the sharp and frosty morning of the day
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority
Building castles by the sea
He dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside

I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways
My father was a man of power whom everyone obeyed

So, you ride yourselves over the fields
And you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels, yes
Oh, to be thick as a brick, yeah

Thank you, thank you
Now to finally lay to rest any ugly rumors that John Glascock
Is a kinky bastard who likes being thrashed severely across the bum
We'll do it only very slightly in the next song
It's dedicated to a young lady very much into the equestrian persuits
It's all about a Hunting Girl, a Hunting Girl, ah, ha
One, two, three, four


One day I walked the road and crossed a field
To go by where the hounds ran hard
And on the master raced, behind the hunters chased
To where the path was barred
One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear
I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared

Crop handle carved in bone
Sat high upon a throne of finest English leather
The queen of all the pack
This joker raised his hat and talked about the weather
All should be warned about this high born hunting girl
She took this simple man's downfall in hand
I raised the flag that she unfurled

Boot leather flashing with spurnecks the size of my thumb
This highborn hunter had tastes as strange as they come, come

Unbridled passion, I took the bit in my teeth
Her standing over, me on my knees underneath, underneath
La, la, la, la

My lady, be discrete, I must get to my feet
And go back to the farm
Whilst I appreciate you are no deviate
I might come to some harm
I'm not inclined to acts refined, if that's how it goes
Oh, high born hunting girl, I'm just a normal low born so and so

Um, this is a song which got us into some small degree of trouble back home in Blighty
Where the music critics decided that it was a song of an autobiographical nature
Indeed, that I was singing about myself
Ha, silly sods, of course I wasn't, I was singing about some other cunt
It's called Too Old To Rock And Roll, Too Young To Die


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 and he's too young to die
Yes, he was too old to rock 'n' roll and he was too young to die

So the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his leave
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner, just like it used to be
And as he flies, tears in his eyes, his wind-whipped words echo the final take
And he hits the trunk road doing around a hundred and twenty with no room left to brake

And he was too old to rock 'n' roll and he was too young to die
Yes, he was too old to rock 'n' roll and he was too young to die
No, you are never too old to rock 'n' roll if you�re too young to die
No, you are never too old to rock 'n' roll if you�re too young to die

But he was too young to die

INSTRUMENTAL

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-glow'd factory cheaters, salaried and collar-scrubbing
And he called the band down to the stage
And he looked at all the friends he'd made

The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the smiling faces
He met the gazes, observed the spaces in between the old men's cackle
And then he brewed a song of love and hatred, oblique suggestions and he waited
He polarized the pumpkin-eaters, static-humming panel-beaters

The minstrel in the gallery looked down on the rabbit-run
And he threw away his looking-glass and saw his face in everyone
He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating one-line jokers
T.V. documentary makers, overfed and undertakers
Sunday paper backgammon players, family-scarred and women-haters
And then he called the band down to the stage
And he looked at all the friends he'd made
The minstrel in the gallery looked down on the rabbit-run
And he threw away his looking-glass and saw his face in everyone

The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down upon the smiling faces
Well, he met the gazes
The minstrel in the gallery

Mary

Hey, who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief
If he had a rich man in his hand
And who would steal the candy from a laughing baby's mouth
If he could take it from the money man
Hey, Cross-Eyed Mary goes jumping in again
She signs no contract but she always plays the game
She dines in Hampstead village on expense accounted gruel
And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school

Laughing at the playground, gets no kicks from little boys
Would rather make it with a letching grey
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung
Watches through the railings as they play
Hey, 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
But she's a rich man stealer, oh, and her favor's good and strong
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate, helps the poor man get along, watch out

Cross-Eyed Mary


Thank you all very much, thank you, we'll see you again some time, eh
Bye, bye, now, bye, bye, bye, bye

INSTRUMENTAL

Hey, sitting on the park bench
Eyeing little girls with bad intent
Snot running down his nose, yeah
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes - whoa, Aqualung
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run - hey, Aqualung
Feeling like a dead duck
Spitting out pieces of his broken luck - hey, Aqualung

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
Well, he goes down to the bog and warms his feet
Feeling alone, the army's up the road
Salvation � 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 was screaming agony
Hey, and you snatch your rattling last breaths with deep-sea-diver sounds
And the flowers bloom like madness in the spring

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
He goes down to the bog and warms his feet, whoa-o-o, whoa-o-o
Feeling alone, the army's up the road
Salvation � la mode and a cup of tea
Aqualung, my friend, don't start away uneasy
Oh, you poor old sod, you see, it's only me, whoa-o-o, whoa-o-o

Aqualung, my friend, don't start away uneasy
Oh, you poor old sod, you see, it's only me
Ah, you know it�s only me, hey

Hey, sitting on the park bench
Eyeing the little girls with bad intent
Snot running down his nose, yeah
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes - oh, Aqualung
He�s drying in the cold sun, yeah
Watching as the frilly panties run - whoa, Aqualung
Well, feeling like a dead duck
Spitting out pieces of his broken luck - hey, Aqualung

Whoa-o-o, Aqualung

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 stole the handle and the train, it won�t stop going
No way to slow down, hey, whoa-o-o

He sees his children jumping off at the 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 stole the handle and the train, it won�t stop going
No way to slow down, yeah, whoa-o-o

He hears the silence howling, well, he catches angels as they fall
And the all-time winner has got him by the balls
Well, he picks up Gideon's Bible, well, 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, hey, whoa-o-o
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, whoa-o-o
No way to slow down, no way to slow down

INSTRUMENTAL


Aqualung my friend, don't you start away uneasy
Oh, you poor old sod, you see, it's only - could be anyone