Jethro Tull -- 13.04.
Click to viewThe Whistler
I'll buy you six bay mares to put in your stable ---
six golden apples bought with my pay.
I am the first piper who calls the sweet tune,
but I must be gone by the seventh day.
So come on, I'm the whistler.
I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready for the whistler.
I whistle along on the seventh day ---
whistle along on the seventh day.
All kinds of sadness I've left behind me.
Many's the day when I have done wrong.
But I'll be yours for ever and ever.
Climb in the saddle and whistle along.
So come on, I'm the whistler.
I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready for the whistler.
I whistle along on the seventh day ---
whistle along on the seventh day.
Deep red are the sun-sets in mystical places.
Black are the nights on summer-day sands.
We'll find the speck of truth in each riddle.
Hold the first grain of love in our hands.
One White Duck / 0^{10} = Nothing At All
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.