Jethro Tull.

[Crazy Guggenheim]

Sitting on a park bench --
Eyeing ittle girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose --
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun --
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck --
Spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
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 rode
Salvation à la mode and
A cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend --
Don’t 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.

[Crazy Guggenheim]

1. 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 won’t stop going --
No way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off
At the 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 won’t stop going --
No way to slow down.
He hears the silence howling --
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 --
Old charlie stole the handle and
The train won’t stop going --
No way to slow down.

[Crazy Guggenheim]

2. ...........

[Oeditpus Rex]

3. Which one's Jethro?

:popcorn:

[Crazy Guggenheim]

6. It's the name of the band .........

:popcorn:

[Oeditpus Rex]

8. Yeah?

Next you're gonna tell me there's no one in Pink Floyd named Pink or Floyd. :eyes:

[Squeech]

4. Excellent

Great song. Especially interesting to me is the "wrong notes" they wrote the introductory riff out of, with the prominent tritone (C# in the key of G) and other dissonant intervals.

My theory is that heavy metal is the specific ethnic music of alienated suburban high school kids, and to make the music really their own, they had to replace the old rhythm and blues influences with their own particular flavor of angst and fantasy. They abstracted the tempo from "Born to be Wild" and "Highway Star," the weird scales from "Aqualung" and "Cities On Flame with Rock and Roll," the distortion from Vanilla Fudge, the relentlessness from Black Sabbath, etc.

So, in short, we wouldn't have Metallica and Slayer and their progeny without Jethro Tull. (And that's why Tull really deserved that notorious Grammy award-- it certainly wasn't for their current release, so forgettable I bet you can't name it now :-) )

[Left_Winger]

5. Jethro Tull (1674-1741)

Jethro Tull invented the seed drill (in 1701), the horse-drawn hoe, and an improved plough. Tull was educated at Oxford, England where studied law, he later studied agriculture during his travels across Europe. Jethro Tull inherited land in the southern part of England where he put into practice his study of agriculture.
His seed drill would sow seed in uniform rows and cover up the seed in the rows. Up to that point, sowing seeds was done by hand by scattering seeds on the ground. Tull considered this method wasteful since many seeds did not take root. The first prototype seed drill was built from the foot pedals of Jethro Tull's local church organ.

Jethro Tull was part of a group of farmers who founded the Norfolk system, an early attempt to apply science to farming. In 1731, Jethro Tull published "The New Horse Houghing Husbandry: or, an Essay on the Principles of Tillage and Vegetation".

[maveric]

7. Wind Up. A stab at religious hypocrisy.

Wind up.

When I was young and they packed me off to school
and 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-assed 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 had 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 Father's 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.
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

[bridgit]

9. Beggar's Farm ~ This Was

You're taking chances.
And your reputation's going down.
Going out in the night-time.
You think you make no sound.
But you don't fool me.
`Cos I know what you feel.
If you ignore the things I say --
someday soon's gonna find you
`way down on Beggar's Farm.

I pay my money for no returns.
I think I need you.
Going to find someone.
Oh, you don't fool me.
`Cos I know what you feel.
When you go out I ask you why.
And I won't worry when I see you lying
down on Beggar's Farm.

When you run to me, going to turn away.
Won't even listen when you try to say
that you were only fooling around --
`Cos I know what you feel.
But if you ask me nicely, woman --
I'll wake up early one day soon and
I'll visit you down on Beggar's Farm.