"Steel Monkey"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993), The Very Best of Jethro Tull (2001), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

As the moon slips up, and the sun sets down
I'm a highrise jockey, and I'm heaven-bound
Do the workboot shuffle
Loose brains from brawn
I'm a monkey puzzle and the lid is on
Can you guess my name?
Can you guess my trade?
I'm going to catch you anyway
You might be right, I'll give you guesses three
Feel me climbing up your knee
Guess what I am, I'm a steel monkey
Now some men hustle and some just think
And some go running before you blink
Some look up and some look down
From three hundred feet above the ground
Can you guess my name?
And can you guess my trade?
Well, I won't rest before the world is made
Arm in arm the angels fly
Keep me from falling out the sky
Steel monkey
I work in the thunder and I work in the rain
I work at my drinking, and I feel no pain
I work on women, if they want me to
You can have me climb all over you
Now, have you guessed my name?
And have you guessed my trade?
I'm cheap at the money I get paid
In the sulphur city, where men are men
We bolt those beams then climb again
Steel monkey

"Farm On The Freeway"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), 20 Years of Jethro Tull: III. The Essential Tull (1988), The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

Nine miles of two-strand
Topped with barbed wire laid
By the father for the son
Good shelter down there on the valley floor
Down by where the sweet stream run
Now they might give me compensation
That's not what I'm chasing
I was a rich man before yesterday
Now all I have got is a cheque
And a pickup truck
I left my farm on the freeway
They're busy building airports
On the south side
Silicon chip factory on the east
And the big road's pushing through
Along the valley floor
Hot machine pouring six lanes at the very least
Now, they say they gave me compensation
That's not what I'm chasing
I was a rich man before yesterday
Now all I have left
Is a broken-down pickup truck
Looks like my farm is a freeway
They forgot they told us
What this old land was for
Grow two tons the acre, boy
Between the stones
This was no Southfork, it was no Ponderosa
But it was the place that I called home
They say they gave me compensation
That's not what I'm chasing
I was a rich man before yesterday
And what do I want
With a million dollars and a pickup truck?
When I left my farm under the freeway

"Jump Start"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993), Live At The BBC (1998), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

In the dark of the city backwoods
Something stirs then slips away
Law and order in darkest Knightsbridge
Crime and punishment at play
Hey, Mr. Policeman won't you come on over
Hook me up to the power lines of your love
Jump start, or tow me away
And through the bruised machinery
The smoking haze of industry
Another day with ball and chain
I do my time, then home again
Hey, Mrs. Maggie won't you come on over
Hook me up to the power lines of your love
Jump start, or tow me away
Well, should I blame the officers?
Or maybe, I should blame the priest?
Or should I blame the poor foot soldier
Who's left to make the most from least?
Hey, Jack Ripper won't you come on over
Hook me up to the power lines of your love
Jump start, or tow me away
You can blame the newsman
Talking at you on the satellite T.V.
And if you're fighting for your shipyards
You might as well just blame the sea
Hey, Mr. Weatherman come on over
Hook me up to the power lines of your love
Jump start, or tow me away

"Said She Was A Dancer"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

She said she was a dancer
If I believed it, it was my business
She surely knew a thing or two about control
Next to the bar we hit the samovar
She almost slipped right through my fingers
It was snowing outside and in her soul
Well, maybe you're a dancer
And maybe I'm the King of Old Siam
I thought it through, best to let the illusion roll
I wouldn't say I've never heard that tale before
My frozen little seņorita
But if your dream is good
Why not share it when the nights are cold?
Hey Moscow, what's your story?
Lady, take your time, don't hurry
Maybe a student of the agricultural plan
Hey Moscow, what's your name?
If you don't want to say, don't worry
It would probably be hard
For me to make it scan
With her phrase book in her silk soft hand
She spoke in riddles while the vodka listened
I said, 'Let me look up love
If I might be so bold'
She was the nearest thing to Rock and Roll
That side of the velvet curtain
That separates eastern steel from western gold
Hey Miss Moscow, what's your story?
You needn't speak aloud, just whisper
Am I just the closest thing to an Englishman?
You've seen me in your magazines
Or maybe on state television
I'm your Pepsi-Cola
But you won't take me out the can
She said she was a dancer, so she did
She said she was a dancer
If I believed it, it was my business
It felt like a merry dance that I was being led
So I stole one kiss, it was a near miss
She looked at me like I was Jack the Ripper
She leaned in close
'Goodnight,' was all she said
So I took myself off to bed

"Dogs In The Midwinter"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

You ever had a day like I had today
When things are stacked up bad?
You look around and every face you see
Seems guaranteed to send you mad
And you peer into those hallowed institutions
And they bark at you from every side
But the bite goes wide
I see them running with their tails hanging low
Like dogs in the midwinter
The prophets and the wise men
And the hard politicos are all
Dogs in the midwinter
Let the breath from the mountain
Still the pain
Clear water from the fountain
Run sweeter than the rain
Dogs in the midwinter
The boss man and the tax man
And the moneylenders growl
Like dogs in the midwinter
The weaker of the herd
Can feel their eyes and hear them howl
Like dogs in the midwinter
Though the fox and the rabbit are at peace
Cold doggies in the manger
Turn last suppers into feasts
Dogs in the midwinter
You ever had a day like i had today
Dogs in the midwinter
You look around and every face you see
Dogs in the midwinter
And you peer into those hallowed institutions
And they bark at you from every side
But the bite goes wide
We're all running on a tightrope
Wearing slippers in the snow
We're all dogs in the midwinter
The ice is ever thinner
Be careful how you go
Like dogs in the midwinter
And it's hard to find true equilibrium
When you're looking at each other down
The muzzle of a gun, dogs in the midwinter

"Budapest"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), 25th Anniversary Boxed Set: Potpourri - Live Across The World And Through The Years (1993), Through The Years (1997), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005), Ian Anderson Plays The Orchestral Jethro Tull (2005)

I think she was a middle-distance runner
(The translation wasn't clear)
Could be a budding stately hero
International competition in a year
She was a good enough reason for a party
(Well, you couldn't keep up
On a hard track mile)
While she ran a perfect circle
And she wore a perfect smile in Budapest
Hot night in Budapest
We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium
Dusting off the mandolins
And checking on the gear
She was helping out at the back-stage
Stopping hearts and chilling beer
Yes, and her legs went on for ever
Like staring up at infinity
Through a wisp of cotton panty
Along a skin of satin sea
Hot night in Budapest
You could cut the heat
Peel it back with the wrong side of a knife
Feel it blowing from the sidefills
Feel like you were playing for your life
(If not the money), hot night in Budapest
She bent down to fill the ice box
And stuffed some more warm white wine in
Like some weird unearthly vision
Wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle
But the boys and me were heading west
So we left her to the late crew
And a hot night in Budapest
It was a hot night in Budapest
She didn't speak much English language
(She didn't speak much anyway)
She wouldn't make love
But she could make good sandwich
And she poured sweet wine before we played
Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha
Let's watch her now
I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall
But she didn't grace our table
In fact, she wasn't there at all
Yes, and her legs went on forever
Like staring up at infinity
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
And she didn't care to be
That night in Budapest
Hot night in Budapest

"Mountain Men"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

The poacher and his daughter
Throw soft shadows on the water in the night
A thin moon slips behind them
As they pull the net with no betraying light
And later on the coast road
I meet them and the old man winks a smile
And who am I to fast deny the right
To take a fish once in a while?
I walk with them, they wish me luck
When I ship out on the Sunday from the kyle
And from the church I hear them singing
As the ship moves sadly from the pier
Oh, poacher's daughter, Sunday best
Two hundred brave souls
Share the farewell tear
There's a house on the hillside
Where the drifting sands are born
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper
Counts for everything
Did my tour, did my duty.
I did all they asked of me
Died in the trenches and at Alamein
Died in the Falklands on T.V.
Going back to the mountain kings
Where the sound of the piper
Counts for everything
Long generations from the Isles
Sent to tread the foreign miles
Where the spiral ages meet
Felt naked dust beneath their feet
Future sun called winds to blow
And the past and present hard-eyed crow
Flew hunting high and circling low
Over blackened plains of Eden
There's a child and a woman praying
For an end to the mystery
Hoping for a word in a letter
Fair wind-blown from across the sea
To where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper
Counts for eveything
There's a house on the hillside
Where the drifting sands are born
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper
Counts for everything
Where the real mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper
Counts for everything
Feel the naked dust beneath my toes
While the future sun calls winds to blow
And the past and present black-eyed crow
Flies hunting high and circling low
Between dream mountains of our Eden

"The Waking Edge"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

As I wake up in a room somewhere
Dawn light not yet showing
There's just a thin horizon
Between me and her
The edge of a half-dream glowing
Well, you know
I felt her in my dream last night
Strange how the sheets are warm beside me
Now, how do I catch the waking edge?
As it slips to the far and wide of me
Didn't I try to hold it down?
Freeze on the picture
Hang sharp on the sound
Catch the waking edge another time
Familiar shadows in my hotel room
Are still here for the taking
They seem to linger on as the street lights fade
And the empty dawn is breaking
Private movie showing in my head
Which button do I press for re-run?
And how do I catch the waking edge?
The edge of a dream about someone
Well, you know
I felt her in my dream last night
Now the sheets are cold beside me

"Raising Steam"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Crest of a Knave (1987), Crest of a Knave (Remaster) (2005)

Over high plains, through the snow
Roll those tracks out, don't you know
I'm raising steam
Thin vein creeping; hot blood flow
Spill a little where the new towns grow
I got my whole life hanging in a sack
Heading out into that wide world wide
You got your locomotive sitting on your track
And I don't care which way I ride
I may not be coming back
Left a lady with a heart
All in pieces come apart, raising steam
That engine up front must have a heart
Big enough for the both of us
Riding shotgun on the sunset
Stare it in the eye
Rocking on my heels out to the west
Funny how the whole world, historically
Feels the urge to chase the sun to rest
We may not be coming back
Let me be your engineer
Have you smiling ear to ear, raising steam
And will you tell me how it feels
When you're up and rolling
On your driving wheels?
I got my whole life hanging in a sack
Heading out into that wide world wide
I'll be your locomotive blowing off its stack
And I don't care which way I ride
I may not be coming back, raising steam