"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: I. Radio Archives and The Rare Tracks (Released But Only Just) (1988), 25th Anniversary Boxed Set: Remixed Classic Songs (1993), The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993), Live At The BBC (1998), 36 Greatest Hits (1998), The Very Best of Jethro Tull (2001), Minstrel In The Gallery (remaster) (2002), Live: Bursting Out (remaster) (2004)

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: I. Radio Archives and The Rare Tracks (Released But Only Just) (1988), 25th Anniversary Boxed Set: Remixed Classic Songs (1993), Minstrel In The Gallery (remaster) (2002), The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007)

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
Break fast 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: III. The Essential Tull (1988), Minstrel In The Gallery (remaster) (2002)

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 (remaster) (2002)

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: II. Flawed Gems (Dusted Down) and The Other Sides of Tull (1988), A Little Light Music (1992), Minstrel In The Gallery (remaster) (2002), The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007)

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's 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?
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?
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
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 (remaster) (2002)

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!)
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: I. Radio Archives and The Rare Tracks (Released But Only Just) (1988), 36 Greatest Hits (1998)

Hello sun, hello bird
Hello my lady, hello breakfast
May I buy you again tomorrow?