JETHRO TULL: Aqualung (1971)

1. Aqualung
2. Cross-Eyed Mary
3. Cheap Day Return
4. Mother Goose
5. Wond'ring Aloud
6. Up To Me
7. My God
8. Hymn 43
9. Slipstream
10. Locomotive Breath
11. Wind Up

AQUALUNG
Sitting on a park bench
eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Hey, 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.
Oh, 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
he goes down to the bog and warms his feet.

Feeling alone
the army's up the road
salvation a la mode and a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don't you 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
is screaming agony.
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.

Feeling alone
the army's up the road
salvation a la mode and a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don't you start away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me.

Aqualung my friend
don't you start away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me. Whoa.

Sitting on a park bench
eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Hey, 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
ohh, aqualung

CROSS-EYED MARY

Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thiefif

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.

Cross-eyed Mary

goes jumping in again.

She signs no contract

but she always plays the game.

Dines in Hampstead village

on expense accounted gruel,

and the jack knife barber

drops her off at school.

Laughing in the playground

gets no kicks from little boys:

would rather make it with a letching gray.

Or maybe her attention

is drawn by Aqualung,

who watches through the railings as they play.

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.

She's a rich man's stealer

but her favour's good and strong:

She's the Robin Hood of Highgate

helps the poor man get along.

CHEAP DAY RETURN

On Preston platform

do your soft shoe shuffle dance.

Brush away the cigarette ash that's

fallen down your pants.

And you sadly wonder

does the nurse treat your old man

the way she should.

She made you tea:

asked for your autograph

what a laugh.

MOTHER GOOSE

As I did walk by Hampstead fair,

I came upon Mother Goose - so I turned her loose

she was screaming.

And a foreign student said to me

was it really true there are elephants and lions too

in Piccadilly Circus?

Walked down by the bathing pond

to try and catch some sun.

Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing

into hankerchiefs as one.

I don't believe they knewI was a schoolboy.

And a bearded lady said to me

if you start your raving and your misbehaving

you'll be sorry.

Then the chicken-fancier came to play

with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:

she drives a lorry).Laughed down by the putting green

I popped 'em in their holes.

Four and twenty labourers were labouring

digging up their gold.

I don't believe they knew

that I was Long John Silver.

Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds

in his jet black mac (which he won't give back)

stole it from a snow man.

WOND'RING ALOUD

Wond'ring aloud

how we feel today.

Last night sipped the sunset

my hands in her hair.

We are out own saviours

as we start both our hearts beating life

into each other.

Wond'ring aloud

will the years treat us well.

As she floats in the kitchen,

I'm tasting the smell

of toast as the butter runs.

Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed

and I shake my head.

And it's only the giving

that makes you what you are.

UP TO ME

Take you to the cinema

and leave you in a Wimpy Bar

you tell me that we've gone to far

come running up to me.

Make the scene at Cousin Jack's

leave him put the bottles back

mends his glasses that I cracked

well that one's up to me.

Buy a silver cloud to ride

pack the tennis club inside

trouser cuffs hung far too wide

well it was up to me.

Tyres down on your bicicle

your nose feels like an icicle

the yellow fingered smoky girl

is looking up to me.

Well I'm a common working man

with a half of butter bread and jam

and if it pleases me I'll put one on you man

when the copper fades away.

The rainy season comes to pass

the day-glo pirate sinks at last

and if I laughed a bit to fast.

Well it was up to me

MY GOD

People what have you done?

locked him in his golden cage, golden cage

Made him bend to your religion

Him resurrected from the grave, from the grave

He is the God of nothing

if that's all that you can see.

You are the God of everything

He's inside you and me.

So lean upon him gently

and don't call on him to save you

from your social graces

and the sins you used to waive, you used to waive.

The bloody Church of England

in chains of history

Requests' your earthly presence

at the vicarage for tea.

And the graven image you know who

with his plastic crucifix, he's got him fixed

confuses me as to who and where and why?

as to how he gets his kicks, he gets his kicks

Confessing to endless sin

the endless whining sounds.

You'll be praying till next Thursday

to all the gods that you can count.

HYMN 43
Oh father high in heaven
smile down upon your son, hey, hey

who’s busy with his money games, oh
his women and his gun.
Lord Jesus save me

And the unsung western hero
He killed an indian or three, hey, hey

and then he made his name in Hollywood, oh
to set the white man free
Lord Jesus save me

If Jesus saves,
Well, he'd better save himself

from the gory glory seekers
who use his name in death.
Oh, Jesus hear me.

If Jesus saves,
Well, he'd better save himself

from the gory glory seekers
who use his name in death, baby
Oh, Jesus save me, hey

Well. I saw him in the city
and on the mountains of the moon, hey, hey

his cross was rather bloody, oh
He could hardly roll his stone.

And Jesus save me, hey

SLIPSTREAM
Well the lush separation enfolds you

and the products of wealth

push you along on the bow wave

of the spiritless undying selves.

And you press on God's waiter your last dime

as he hands you the bill.

And you spin in the slipstream

timeless unreasoning

paddle right out of the mess

and you paddle right out of the mess

LOCOMOTIVE BREATH
In the shuffling madess

of the locomotive breath,

runs the all time loser,

headlong to his death.

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, oh, oh.

He sees his children jumping off

at stations one by one.

His woman and his best friend

in bed and having fun.

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, yeah

He hears the silence howling

and catches angels as they fall.

And the all time winner

has got him by the balls.

He picks up Gideons Bible

open at page one

I thank God, he stole the handle
and the train won't stop going

no way to slow down
no way to slow down

no way to slow down...

WIND UP
When I was young, and they packed me off to school

and they taught me how not to play the game.

I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,

or if they said that I was a fool.

So I left there in the morning with their God tucked underneath my arm

their half-asses smiles and the book of rules.

So I asked this God a question and by way of firm reply,

He said “I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays”.

So to my old headmaster and to anyone who cares;

before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers

I don't believe you, you got the whole damn thing all wrong

He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school

and have all the bishops harmonize these lines

How do you dare tell me that I'm my fathers son

when that was just an accident of Birth?

I'd rather look around me compose a better song

'cos that's the honest measure of my worth.

In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,

as you lick the boots of death born out of fear
When I was young, and they packed me off to school

and they taught me how not to play the game.

I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,

or if they said that I was a fool.

So I left there in the morning with their God tucked underneath my arm

their half-asses smiles and the book of rules.

Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school

and have all the bishops harmonize these lines
When I was young, and they packed me off to school

and they taught me how not to play the game.

I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,

or if they said that I was a fool.
So to my old headmaster and to anyone who cares;

before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school

and have all the bishops harmonize these lines

I don't believe you, you got the whole damn thing all wrong

He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.