"The Secret Language of Birds"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
J-Tull Dot Com (1999); The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
This sparkling wine is all but empty, too late for trains and no taxis
I knew the feeling, seems all too contrived, there was no master plan but the fact is
You must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
A tentative dawn about to be breaking on a Rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding
The truth of the matter, yet to be spoken in words on which everything, everything's riding
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Circled by swallows in a world for the weary, courted by warblers, wicked and eloquent trilling
Lie in the stillness, window cracked open, extended moments, hours for the taking
Careless hair on the pillow, a bold brushstroke, painted verse with a chorus in waiting
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
"The Little Flower Girl"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Down at the church the flower girl sits, legs innocent, apart
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart
Painted sister stopped beside, a word upon her saintly lip
Perhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip
Well I don't know where she might go when she runs home at night
It's for the best, I wouldn't rest when I turned out the light
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream
Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine
I have touched that face a dozen times before and I have let my pencil run
Laid down washes on a foreign shore, under a hot and foreign sun
My best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm
Her chin I tilt, her breats I lift, I mean no harm
I close the door, she is no more, until the next appointed hour
Northeastern light push back the night, painted promises in store
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream
Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine
Down at the church the flower girl sits, legs innocent, apart
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart
My golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm
Her chin I tilt, her breats I lift, I mean no harm, I mean no harm, I mean
"Montserrat"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Fires on the mountain, and the dogs bark, crash of the ocean swelling, crickets in the dark
The temperature is rising, the village gets no sleep, it's hardly surprising given the hot company they keep
Somebody's home in the ash-fall margins, somebody's life in the lost and found
Breaking news from the hotel Vue Pointe, sinking feeling, sink another beer down
Hey, Jimmy, what you doing here? Looking up at the high cloud cover, so far and yet so near
Flying in with the chopper, Lieutenant of the crown, tell the boys from that CNN the good cops have come to town
Angry island, no-one's listening, shamrock villa, green to grey, down in the swamp, iguanas glistening, toast tomorrow, if not, today
In the shadow of the Souffriere, under Chance's Peak, did the earth move for you honey? Well, come back next week
Queen and country forsaken you? Now, that is that, see the governor is leaving in his Sunday hat
Angry island, no-one's listening, shamrock villa, green to grey, down in the swamp, iguanas glistening, toast tomorrow, if not, today
Hey, Jimmy, what you doing here? You a scientist? You a newsman? Or simply come to feel the fear?
The temperature is rising and we're in too deep, there really is no point in disguising the hot company we keep
"Postcard Day"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
My eyes are in white circles above cheekbones on fire, pale hand gripping my pen
Rounding up to the zero, adding infinite fractions, letting nine become ten
Two pink doves strut the shingles, picking crumbs from the breakfast I saved
For you dear, and I wish you were here on the postcard day
Focus on the fine indeterminate line where the sky meets the sea
Desperate midweek words, banal and absurd, freely flow out to me
Well, I may be a hostage to summer, but I'm a hostage, not a slave
And I'm clear that I wish you were here on this postcard day
Precious cargo of flotsam, mixed memories on an ocean tide
Swim madly with spice from the orient on a mystery watery carpet ride
But, with the sun going down, the wind goes around, blows them back out of mind
My eyes are white circles staring down past the point of my restless pen
While the ghosts of my youth all sworn to the truth, call my name again
Two brown legs don't make a summer, but two brown arms couldn't keep me away
Well, my dear, I wish you were here on this postcard day
"The Water Carrier"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006); The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007)
Crystal fountain springing from the hill, it irrigates your soul, you may drink your fill
Water of life, carried high, one hand upon the gallon jar, feel her fix my eye
Every good traveller's for the taking, all good money for the making
Seller's market, wet appeal, water carrier, let's make the deal
Covered face and black pool eyes, between us no words spoken, no words to the wise
Here's to another time and a drink somewhere, plush on a Nain carpet, on a cafe chair
Every good traveller's for the taking, all good money for the making
Seller's market, wet appeal, water carrier, let's make the deal
"Set-Aside"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Hard black crows bobbing, where once ran deep furrows, frazzled oak silhouetteed in her ivy dress
Winter sun catches dog, fox through thin hedges throws his long shadow north to the emptiness
Farmhouse in tatters, shuttered and battered, even lovers don't go there these last few years
Spider-web windows on set-aside heroes, standing lost in a landscape of tears
Farmhouse in tatters, shuttered and battered, even lovers don't go there these last few years
Spider-web windows on set-aside heroes, standing lost in a landscape of tears
"A Better Moon"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
I see you better now, shaded in deeper blue, hardly needing to carry the find-you-way lamp down to the river, and tonight flies a better moon
Sad water buffalo lie fast near the shallows, a splash revealing the fly catching fishes, dark Gods silently watching and tonight flies a better moon
I guess you've known lovers here compliant in passion, softly laid in the old reed bed, harshly lit in the noon sun, tonight flies a better moon
Now cloaked in this milky light, new as the virgin dawn, shrouded sweetly in all kinds of mystery, you turn, smile and then are gone, and tonight flies a better moon
"Sanctuary"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Dear uncle sold her into the purest kind of slavery
Hood-eyed little middlemen profited from damaged goods along the way
Good angels brought her back to a last Nepal summer
Debased, hollow-faced, a smile might become her
Now she's coised up, coised up and comforted in the warm flush of September
Gone before winter, wondering as to might-have-beens, somebody's daughter in sanctuary, waiting
Seen through softer cage of kindness, far and further still away
From time-warp Victorian zoos where staring ice cream gameboys play
Big paws, worn claws and swishing tails, more damaged goods in the market sales
Too proud for anger, too late for hate, resigned in dignity
Gone before winter, purring might-have-beens, somebody's kitten in sanctuary, waiting
Gone before winter, wondering as to might-have-beens, somebody near you in sanctuary, waiting
"The Jasmine Corridor"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
In all my life, I never knew a girl like you before
Woke up one day, swore I heard the sound of heaven knocking on my door
And after all these years long passing, time to reflect, no time for wasting
Walking down the jasmine corridor, reflecting echoes of quiet laughter
In all my life, I was never better served than I was served by you
And in my way, hope you agree I tried to serve you too
Out on the headland I stepped once unsteady, you there to catch me, I breathe more freely
Hand in mine down the jasmine corridor, reflecting echoes of quiet laughter
Through all my life, I chased flitting illusions at a faster pace
Never stopped to think, the moment was for seizing, had myself to face
You made my bed to lie in, stately, mad cats, grandchildren here more often lately
The final view from the jasmine corridor, reflecting echoes of quiet laughter
"The Habanero Reel"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); Living With The Past (2002); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Cool in the corner, tom cat sitting on the edge of the yard, sand-flies flitting
Orange order on a field of green, smothers me to smithereens
Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing, jumping beans and brown eyes flashing
Long hair swinging, tell me how'd you feel? Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel
Troubled skin? Pour oil upon it, she's fit to burn in her new Scotch bonnet
Spice up anybody's stew, frogs and goats and chickens too
Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing, jumping beans and brown eyes flashing
Long hair swinging, tell me how'd you feel? Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel
Barefoot in the sunshine, kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line
Big wave nearly float your dress away and I'm thinking that it's just another day, just another day
Feel that hot rush start its tickle, sweat is rising, taste buds prickle
With ears of bat and eye of eagle, it's just as well it's strictly legal
Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing, jumping beans and brown eyes flashing
Long hair swinging, tell me how'd you feel? Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel
Barefoot in the sunshine, kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line
Big wave nearly float your dress away and I'm thinking that it's just another day, just another day
"Panama Freighter"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Night close in on a shanty town, Panama freighter wearing rusty brown
She sails tomorrow and she's homeward bound, had up on a jumpy sea
I'm not the only lonely planet rider in this one horse town I'm thinking and I won't over-rate or patronize you
I know we're different as chalk and cheese, as black hole winters and salad days
And I wouldn't like your mother much anyway, but it's not her I'm taking home with me
Don't intend to dress you in silver threads, like some trophy in sublime seclusion, won't try to educate or civilize you
Night close in on a shanty town, Panama freighter wearing rusty brown
She sails tomorrow and she's homeward bound and you're bound to come home with me
On the Panama freighter with me
"The Secret Language of Birds II"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
No buzz words, fuzzy fudge words, so freeze those goalposts
Don't take the Admiral on board, this Hardy's not for kissing
Expression, no explosion, or whispered promises in cliche or in rhyme
Instead let's talk the secret language of birds
Right time but wrong idea, well you're making it all sound just the same
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale still over there in Barkley Square
Do we have problems of communication? There's something I don't know and you can't explain it to me
Let's talk the secret language of birds
Step out of the circus now, learn a new trick and make it stick
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale still over there in Barkley Square
Finger tracing on misty window, I'm reading loud and clear this salacious semaphore
As you leave me standing at the station
Give it to me, the big dawn chorus, no whispered promises in cliche or in rhyme
Let's talk the secret language of birds
Right time but wrong idea, well you're making it all sound just the same
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale still over there in Barkley Square
Right time but wrong idea, well you're making it all sound just the same
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale still over there in Barkley Square
"Boris Dancing" (Instrumental)
music by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); Ian Anderson Plays The Orchestral Jethro Tull (2005); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Bootlegs: Live In Switzerland 2005 (2023)
"Circular Breathing"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)
Pick up my wings and fly into a Constable sky, look down on the world and try
To make you out on the distant ground, lonely toy in a lost-toy town
Suspended in spiral sounds, sounds of circular breathing
I'm a kite on a silver thread, daring lightning to strike me dead
Harsh echoes of things you said, banished me to a thinner space
With unholy ghosts of your bedroom face, hands cupped to my ears to place
The sound of circular breathing
Matchbox cityscape below, I watch Lowry matchstick figures go
Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence
See the matchbox cityscape below, I watch Lowry matchstick figures go
Caught in the timeless ebb and flow of discreet silence
Pick up my wings and fly into a Constable sky, look down on the world and try
To make you out on the distant ground, lonely toy in a lost-toy town
Suspended in spiral sounds, sounds of circular breathing
"The Stormont Shuffle" (Instrumental)
music by Ian Anderson
The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Ian Anderson Collection (2006)