Jethro Tull A Passion Play, part 2 Lyrics

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 grass
was hare.
In the stream that flowed by the grass 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 the 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.

A Passion Play (Part 2 - 22:00 minutes)

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 spawn 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 "Hell"