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
|
<Interlude>
|
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
|
<Interlude>
|
Deep red are the sunsets
|
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
|
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
|
So come on - I'm a 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
|
cked down
|
and they put you first in line
|
And so you finally ask yourself
|
just how big you are
|
and take your place in a wiser
|
world of bigger motor cars
|
<Intelrude>
|
So Where the hell was Biggles
|
when you needed him
|
last Saturday
|
And where were all the sportsmen
|
who always pulled you though
|
They're all resting down
|
in Cornwall
|
writing up their memoirs
|
for a paper-back edition
|
of the Boy Scout Manual
|
See there! A man born
|
|
-----------------
|
Whistler
|
| Jethro Tull |
