"Minstrel In The Gallery"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); Repeat: The Best of Jethro Tull Vol. II (1977); Live: Bursting Out (1978); Original Masters (1985);
20 Years of Jethro Tull: Radio Archives and Rare Tracks (1988); The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993); 25 Years of Jethro Tull: Remixed Classic Songs (1993);
Live At The BBC (1996); 36 Greatest Hits (1998); The Very Best of Jethro Tull (2001); Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002); All The Best (2012);
Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015); Songs From The Wood: The 40th Anniversary Country Set Edition (2017);
Heavy Horses: 40th Anniversary New Shoes Edition (2018); 50 For 50 (2018); Stormwatch: 40th Anniversary Force 10 Edition (2019);
The Broadsword and The Beast: The 40th Anniversary Monster Edition (2023);
Live: Bursting Out: The Inflated Edition (2024)
Bootlegs: Rainbow Theatre London 8 May 1978 (1978); Watchers On The Storm (1980); Nostell Priory UK 08-24-1982 (1982); Capitol Theatre 10/28/84 (1984);
One Flute Over The Cuckoo's Nest (1990); Hard Times of Old England (2021); Live In Freiburg 1982 (2022)
Tributes: To Cry You A Song: A Collection of Tull Tales (1996)
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)
He titillated men-of-action, belly warming, hands still rubbing on the parts they never mention
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
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 threw away his looking-glass, saw his face in everyone
"Cold Wind To Valhalla"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); 20 Years of Jethro Tull: Radio Archives and Rare Tracks (1988); 25 Years of Jethro Tull: Remixed Classic Songs (1993);
Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002); The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007); Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015)
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
Breakfast 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
"Black Satin Dancer"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); 20 Years of Jethro Tull: The Essential Tull (1988); Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002);
Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015); The Broadsword and The Beast: The 40th Anniversary Monster Edition (2023)
Bootlegs: Hard Times of Old England (2021); Live In Freiburg 1982 (2022)
Come, let me play with you Black satin dancer, in all your giving, given is the answer
Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter than the brightest flower in my garden
Begging your pardon, shedding right unreason, over sensation fly the fleeting seasons
Thin wind whispering on broken mandolin, bending the minutes, the hours ever turning
On that old gold story of mercy, desperate breathing, tongue nipple-teasing
Your fast river flowing, your northern fire fed, come, black satin dancer, come softly to bed
"Requiem"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); 36 Greatest Hits (1998); Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002); Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015)
Well, I saw a bird today flying from a bush and the wind blew it away
And the black-eyed mother sun scorched the butterfly at play, velvet veined, I saw it burn
With a wintry storm-blown sigh, a silver cloud blew right on by, and, taking in the morning, I sang, O Requiem
Well, my lady told me, 'Stay,' I looked aside and walked away along the Strand
But I didn't say a word as the train time-table blurred close behind the taxi stand
Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window, fading in the traffic, watched her go
And taking in the morning heard myself singing, O Requiem, here I go again, it's the same old story
Well, I saw a bird today, I looked aside and walked away along the Strand
"One White Duck/0^10 = Nothing At All"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); 20 Years of Jethro Tull: The Essential Tull (1988); A Little Light Music (1992); Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002);
The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007); Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015); 50 For 50 (2018)
There's a haze on the skyline to wish me on my way
And there's a note on the telephone, some roses on a tray
And the motorway 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
I'll 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
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
So fly away Peter and fly away Paul from the finger-tip ledge of contentment
The long restless rustle of high-heeled boots calls
And I'm probably bound to deceive you after all
Something must be wrong with me and my brain
If I'm so patently unrewarding, but my dreams are for dreaming and best left that way
And my zero to your power of ten equals nothing at all
There's no double-lock defense, there's no chain on my door
And I'm available for consultation, but remember your way in is also my way out
And love's four-letter word is no compensation
Well, I'm the Black Ace dog-handler, I'm a waiter on skates
So don't you jump to your foreskin conclusion
Because I'm up to my deaf ears in cold breakfast trays
To be cleared before I can dine on your sweet Sunday lunch confusion
"Baker Street Muse"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002); Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015)
Windy bus stop, click, shop-window, heel, shady gentleman, fly-button, feel
In the underpass, the blind man stands with cold flute hands
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time, you can call me on another line
Indian restaurants that curry my brain, newspaper warriors changing the names
They advertise from the station stand with cold print hands
Symphony word-player, I'll be your headline, if you catch me another time
Didn't make her with my Baker Street Ruse
Couldn't shake her with my Baker Street Bruise
Like to take her, but I'm just a Baker Street Muse
Ale-spew, puddle-brew, boys, throw it up clean, Coke and Bacardi colours them green
From the typing pool goes the mini-skirted princess with great finesse
Fertile earth-mother, your burial mound is fifty feet down in the Baker Street underground
(What the hell!) Didn't make her with my Baker Street Ruse
Couldn't shake her with my Baker Street Bruise
Like to take her, but I'm just a Baker Street Muse
Walking down the gutter thinking "How the hell am I today?"
Well, I didn't really ask you but thanks all the same
Pig-Me And The Whore
"Big bottled Fraulein, put your weight on me" said the pig-me to the whore desperate for more
In his assault on the mountain, little man, his youth a fountain, overdrafted and still counting
Vernacular verbose, an attempt in getting close to where he came from
In the doorway of the stars between Blanford Street and Mars
Proposition, deal, flying button feel, testicle testing, wallet ever-bulging
Dressed to the left divulging the wrinkles of the years
Wedding-bell induced fears, shedding bell-end tears
In the pocket of her resistance, international assistance
Flowing generous and full to his never-ready tool, pulls his eyes over her wool
And he shudders as he comes and my rudder slowly turns me into the Marylebone Road
Nice Little Tune (Instrumental)
Crash-Barrier Waltzer
And here slip I, dragging one foot in the gutter
In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios
And there sits she, no bed, no bread, no butter
On a double yellow line where she can park anytime
Old Lady Grey, crash-barrier waltzer
Some only son's mother, Baker Street casualty
Oh Mr. Policeman, blue shirt ballet master
Feet sticking in plaster, move the old lady on
Strange pas-de-deux, his Romeo to her Juliet
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel
I'll pay the bill and maker her well
Like hell you bloody will! No do-good overkill
We must teach them to be still more independent
Mother England Reverie
I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone
I have no wish for wishing wells or wishing bones
I have no house in the country, I have no motor car
And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one-line joker in a public bar
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis and I'm a one-band-man
And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand
There was a little boy stood on a burning log, rubbing his hands with glee
He said "Oh Mother England did you light my smile or did you light this fire under me?
One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery and paint you a picture of the queen
And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree, it's just the nonsense that it seems."
So I drift down through the Baker Street valley in my steep-sided un-reality
And when all is said and all is done, I couldn't wish for a better one
It's a real-life ripe dead certainty that I'm just a Baker Street muse
Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same old way
I tried to catch my eye, but I looked the other way
Indian restaurants that curry my brain, newspaper warriors changing the names
They advertise from the station stand, circumcised with cold print hands
Windy bus stop, click, shop-window, heel, shady gentleman, fly-button, feel
In the underpass, the blind man stands with cold flute hands
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time, you can call me on another line
Didn't make her with my Baker Street Ruse
Couldn't shake her with my Baker Street Bruise
Like to take her, but I'm just a Baker Street Muse
(I can't get out!)
"Grace"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery (1975); 20 Years of Jethro Tull: Radio Archives and Rare Tracks (1988); 36 Greatest Hits (1998); Minstrel In The Gallery Remastered (2002);
Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015)
Hello sun, hello bird, hello my lady, hello breakfast, may I buy you again tomorrow?
"Hard-Headed English General"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015)
Bootlegs: Munster Live 1973 (1973)