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letra de epilogue - jethro tull

the story of the hare who lost his spectacles
this is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles

owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching
sitting on a fence one day, he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close by
now this may not seem strange, but when owl overheard kangaroo whisper to no one in particular
“the hare has lost his spectacles,” well, he began to wonder

presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and there, lying on the gr-ss was hare
in the stream that flowed by the gr-ss a newt
and sitting astride a twig of a bush a bee
ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with excitement
for without his spectacles he appeared completely helpless
where were his spectacles? could someone have stolen them?
had he mislaid them? what was he to do?
bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer began:
“you probably ate them thinking they were a carrot.”
“no!” interrupted owl, who was wise
“i have good eye-sight, insight, and foresight
how could an intelligent hare make such a silly mistake?”
but all this time, owl had been sitting on the fence, scowling!
a kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk
she thought herself far superior in intelligence to the others
she was their leader, their guru. she had the answer:
“hare, you must go in search of the optician.”
but then she realized that hare was completely helpless without his spectacles
and so, kangaroo loudly proclaimed, “i can’t send hare in search of anything!”
“you can guru, you can!” shouted newt
“you can send him with owl.”
but owl had gone to sleep
newt knew too much to be stopped by so small a problem
“you can take him in your pouch.”
but alas, hare was much too big to fit into kangaroo’s pouch
all this time, it had been quite plain to hare that the others knew nothing about spectacles

as for all their tempting ideas, well hare didn’t care
the lost spectacles were his own affair
and after all, hare did have a spare a-pair
a-pair

forest dance no.2
instrumental part

the foot of our stairs
we sleep by the ever-bright hole in the door
eat in the corner, talk to the floor
cheating the spiders who come to say “please”, (politely)
they bend at the knees
well, i’ll go to the foot of our stairs
old gentlemen talk of when they were young
of ladies lost, of erring sons
lace-covered dandies revel (with friends)
pure as the truth, tied at both ends
well i’ll go to the foot of our stairs
scented cathedral spire pointed down
we pray for souls in kentish town
a delicate hush
the gods, floating by
wishing us well
pie in the sky
god of ages, lord of time
mine is the right, right to be wrong
well i’ll go to the foot of our stairs
jack rabbit mister sp-wn a new breed of love-hungry pilgrims (no bodies to feed)
show me a good man and i’ll show you the door
the last hymn is sung and the devil cries “more.”

well, i’m all for leaving and that being done
i’ve put in a request to take up my turn
in that forsaken paradise that calls itself “h-ll”
where no-one has nothing and nothing is- well -meaning fool
pick up thy bed and rise up from your gloom smiling
give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do

overseer overture
colours i’ve none dark or light, red, white or blue
cold is my touch (freezing)

summoned by name – i am the overseer over you
given this command to watch o’er our miserable sphere
fallen from grace, called on to bring sun or rain
occasional corn from my oversight grew
fell with mine angels from a far better place
offering services for the saving of face
now you’re here, you may as well admire
all whom living has retired from the benign reconciliation
legends were born surrounding mysterious lights
seen in the sky (flashing)
i just lit a f-g then took my leave in the blink of an eye
p-ssionate play join round the maypole in dance
(primitive rite) (wrongly)
summoned by name – i am the overseer over you

flight from lucifer
flee the icy lucifer
oh he’s an awful fellow!
what a mistake!
i didn’t take a feather from his pillow
here’s the everlasting rub: neither am i good nor bad
i’d give up my halo for a h-rn and the h-rn for the hat i once had
i’m only breathing
there’s life on my ceiling
the flies there are sleeping quietly
twist my right arm in the dark. i would give two or three for
one of those days that never made impressions on the old score
i would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree
everyone’s saved we’re in the grave
see you there for afternoon tea
time for awaking the tea lady’s making
a brew-up and baking new bread

pick me up at half past none
there’s not a moment to lose
there is the train on which i came
on the platform are my old shoes
station master rings his bell
whistles blow and flags wave
a little of what you fancy does you good (or so it should)
i thank everybody for making me welcome
i’d stay but my wings have just dropped off

10.08 to paddington=
instrumental part

magus perdé
hail! son of kings make the ever-dying sign
cross your fingers in the sky
for those about to be
there am i waiting along the sand
cast your sweet spell upon the land and sea

magus perdé, take your hand from off the chain
loose a wish to still, the rain, the storm about to be
here am i (voyager into life)
tough are the soles that tread the knife’s edge
break the circle, stretch the line, call upon the devil
bring the gods, the gods’ own fire
in the conflict revel
the p-ssengers upon the ferry crossing, waiting to be born
renew the pledge of life’s long song rise to the reveille h-rn
animals queuing at the gate that stands upon the sh0r-
breathe the ever-burning fire that guards the ever-door

man – son of man – buy the flame of ever-life
(yours to breathe and breath the pain of living): living be!
here am i! roll the stone away
from the dark into ever-day

epilogue
there was a rush along the fulham road
into the ever-p-ssion play

- jethro tull

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