Letras:
Jethro Tull Broadsword

: I see a dark sail on the horizon set under a black cloud that hides the sun. Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding. Bring me my cross of

: we travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits, gliding cold-eyed march towards the dawn behind hard-weather hoods a-hiding. Meeting as the

: Would you join a slow marching band? And take pleasure in your leaving as the ferry sails and tears are dried and cows come home at evening. Could

: In the half-tone light of a young morning she sighs and shifts on the pillow. And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly to kiss the Pussy

: I sit by the cutting on the Beaconsfield line. He's watching me watching the trains go by. And they move so fast - boy, they really fly. He's still

: Take you away for my magic ship. I have two hundred deisel horses thundering loud. Sea birds call your name and the mountain's on fire as the summer

From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth Long murky middle age and final hours long in the tooth Here's the hundred names of terror

Along the coast road, by the headland The early lights of winter glow I'll pour a cup to you, my darling And raise it up, say, "Cheerio"

Shout if you will, but that just won't do I, for one, would rather follow softer options I'll take the easy line, another sip of wine And if I ignore