Jethro Tull Quizz Kid Lyrics

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end, drank his ale too light
Death's head belt buckle, yesterday's dreams, the transport caf' prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams in his post-war-babe gloom

Cut along the dotted line; slip in, and seal the flap.
Postal competition crazy, though you wear the dunce's cap.
Win a fortnight in Ibiza, line up for the big handout.
You'll never know unless you try what winning's all about

Be a quizz kid. Be a whizz kid.

Six days later, there's a rush telegram
Drop everything and telephone this number if you can.
It's a free trip down to London for a weekend of high life.
They'll wine you; dine you; undermine you--better not bring the wife

Be a quizz kid. Be a whizz kid. Be a quizz kid.

It's a tryout for a quizz show that millions watch each week.
Following the fate and fortunes of contestants as they speak.
Answerable to everyone, responsible to all
Publicity dissected brain cells spattered on the walls
Of encyclopaedic knowledge. May be barbaric but it's fun.
As the clock ticks away your lifetime, hold your head up to the gun
Of a million cathode ray tubes aimed at your tiny skull.
May you find sweet inspiration; may your memory not be dull.
May you rise to dizzy success; may your wit be quick and strong.
May you constantly amaze us; may your answers not be wrong.
May your head be on your shoulders; may your tongue be in your cheek.
And most of all we pray that you may come back next week!

Be a quizz kid. Be a whizz kid. Be a quizz kid.