Artist: Jethro Tull Album: Nightcap Unreleased Masters 1973-1991 (My Round - The Chateau D'isaster Tapes) [Disc 1] {1993} Disc 2

INSTRUMENTAL

INSTRUMENTAL

INSTRUMENTAL

The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam

He runs into a sparrow who hasn't eaten for a week
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak

Our cat partakes of dinner when a sodden kangaroo
Emerges from the undergrowth and asks to use the loo
Kangaroos aren't usually dangerous, for that would never do

My goodness, will you look at all the animals queuing on the stairs
Look at the animals in the zoo - how would you like to be one
They're waiting to use the lavatory and putting chewing gum in each other's hair
Look at the animals, look at you - well, how would you like to free one

Good gracious, will you look at all the animals playing with their tools
Look at the animals, look at you - well, how would you like to queer one
Flying from the chandeliers and treading in their elephantine stools
Look at the animals, two by two - aren't you glad to be one

This kangaroo's a lunatic and his pouch is very full
Of pussy cats and penguins who can't fly, as a rule
But then neither could the pussy cat - he never went to school

The kangaroo gets nervous when confronted by the size
Of an elephant named Simon who is always telling lies
He swears he wears green corduroys and can button up his fly

Presently, a fatter Simon's indigestion fails
He regurgitates the whole damn mess into an aluminum pail
And the tiny ant scuttles back inside his watering can
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam

The tiger flashes sharpened teeth
Bowler-hatted, summer briefs beneath his pinstriped skin
To kill demands a business sense
Economy moves non-residence approaching from down-wind

Being a tiger means you laugh
Whenever lesser tigers have
To eat meat that�s infected
Being a tiger means your mate
When overfed will defecate
In places least expected

Knowing a tiger means you must
Accept his promise of mutual trust
And offer him your throat
Loving a tiger means you take
Second place to the cake you bake
And with undying servile obedience
Keep the stiffly starched collar of his conference shirt spotless
And remove daily the daubed bloody evidence of his dastardly misdeeds
From the otherwise immaculate elegance of his pinstripe tiger coat - period

Hello, this is Law of the Bungle Part II
By the way, I'm Martin Barre
But sometimes I'm an owl and my feathers are really smooth
And when I feel romantic I like to dress up in men's clothing


INSTRUMENTAL

The master playwright urges you to play right, play wrong
Life is long and every night's the first night
The wardrobe mistress urges you to dress left, dress right
What a mess when your underpants are too tight

Who's on the stage door to help you find the way in, way out
It's not a sin to be knowing that you don't know
When you breathe your last line will you make your exit stage left, stage right
Well, you might decide while there's still time

You have an angel on your shoulder, but you wear the old god's horn
And you dance around the maypole while the vicar makes a toast
To the pagan celebration and extends an invitation to us all
So he can save us when we fall, oh

Who's your leading lady, will you help to get her off the bus, it's best
To pass the test before you get too lazy
Strike up the orchestra, take your cues on the up-beat, beat down
Anyone who says he doesn't like the sound

Brain-storming, habit-forming, battle-warning
Weary, winsome actor spewing spineless, chilling lines
The critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
And really not an awful lot of fun
Well, who the hell can he be when he's never had V.D.
And he doesn't even sit on toilet seats
Court-jesting, never-resting
He must be very cunning to assume an air of dignity
And bless us all with his oratory prowess
His lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air
And every night his act's the same
And so it must be all a game of chess he's playing

But you're wrong, Steve - you see, it's only solitaire

Critic of the black and white it's your first night
The Passion Play gets in the way, spoils your insight
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid
Why the old dogs howl with sadness

The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint 
On the memory of last summer's trip to Europe

Did you buy a passport from the queen

And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulder
Of a young horse named George 
Who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision

The examining body examined her body

One, two, three, two


The editor lies screaming, begging in his working drink
Questioning, "Who is God's favorite rock star this week?"
And will the front page take him

The deadline for the headline is the breadline

In long years of ancient time stood alone a friend of mine
Reflected by the ever-burning sigh of a 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, in thy righteousness consumed
Or just in lush contentment of our souls

And so began the age of man and they left his body in the sand
Their glasses raised to a god on high who 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

Then God, the director, smells a rat
Pulls another rabbit from His hat
Sniffs the air and He says, "Well, that's that - I'm going."

The actors 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 groupies on their way to war
Get to write the next film score
But the rock and roll star knows his glory is really nothing
Men of religion on the make
Pledge an oath they undertake
To make you wise for God's own sake and none other

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 righting wrongs
Just asking questions that belong without an answer
But 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

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
There is 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 is 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's hands are chilled, 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 bricked 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