JETHRO TULL

Songs From The Wood

(1977)

1. Songs From The Wood 4'55
2. Jack-In-The-Green 2'31
3. Cup Of Wonder 4'34
4. Hunting Girl 5'13
5. Ring Out, Solstice Bells 3'47
6. Velvet Green 6'05
7. The Whistler 3'31
8. Pibroch (Cap In Hand) 8'36
9. Fire At Midnight 2'33
10. Beltane 5'20
11. Velvet Green (live) 5'54

Total Time: 52:59

  • Ian Anderson - Vocals, Flute, Acoustic Guitars, Mandolin, Whistles
  • Martin Barre - Electric Guitar, Lute
  • John Evans - Piano, Organ, Synthesizers
  • John Glascock - Bass Guitar, Vocals
  • Barriemore Barlow - Drums, Marimba, Glockenspiel, Bells, Nakers, Tahor
  • David Palmer - Piano, Synthesizer, Portative Organ

    Produced by Ian Anderson
    Additional Material by David Palmer and Martin Barre
    Arrangements by JETHRO TULL
    Engineer - Robin Black
    Assistant Engineers - Thing Moss and Trevor White
    Wood-Cutter - Keith Howard
    Back Cover -     SHIRT SLEEVE STUDIO
    Front Cover Publishing by Jay Lee

    All Songs Written by Ian Anderson

    "Jack-In-The-Green"all instruments played by Ian Anderson

    All Songs Published by The Ian ANDERSON GROUP OF COMPANIES / CHRYSALIS RECORDS

    Recorded at MORGAN STUDIOS and LA MAISON ROUGE mobile studio

    After a series of unsatisfactory temporary domiciles, ranging from lowly bed-sits to swanky hotel suites, I moved out to the country, as you do, in 1975. Waking up to the sounds of birds, sheep and miaowing kittens set a different tone from the London metropolitan rumble and traffic pollution.
    At that time we had a lovable but often infuriating PR man who was allowed to call himself our manager as part of the financial relationship - one Jo Lustig. Jo was a hardnosed American press and promo guy of the old New York school and modelled himself on the many heavyweight and comedy actors who were his pals and professional colleagues. Anglophile Jo, too, moved from London out to the country in East Anglia and bought for me as a Christmas present, a big book on British folklore and legends. I guess we both were trying to identify with the quaint and elusive country culture which we Townies often crave to have a part of.
    Digging deep into the characters and stories, as well as reading up in other works on the mysteries of ley lines, early religion and the like, I soon found the fodder for lyrical and musical invention which was to take Tull into the world of Folk-Rock. Or, so said some of I the critics. Really, it just seemed a natural progression from the previous albums and, while inspired by folk tales, it in no way took on the true folk credentials of the Fairports, Steeleye Span and the other stalwarts of the Traditional Folk scene of the seventies. More a case of folky window dressing in a prog-rock shop-front. But, all in all, one of the best ever TULL albums in my opinion.
    The rest of the band offered up much in the way of arrangement ideas and a bit of co-writing in many of the instrumental sections. So, like Thick As A Brick, the final 1 assemblage of Songs From The Wood was a co-operative effort from the band as a whole. Funny, really, as I didn't expect the others to latch on to the slightly twee tales of "Jack In The I Green" or "Hunting Girl". But then, with the former, they didn't have to, as it was all played by me one rainy Sunday afternoon in MORGAN STUDIOS, North London. I wrote the piece in the morning, had Sunday lunch with Shona and beetled off to record it while the idea was in my head. I think we even mixed it the same evening. Wow! I wish they all happened so fast ! Thanks to Barrie for conveniently leaving his drum kit in the studio. Think I might have | brought my own sticks, 'though.
    Looking back, we all had confidence that the record was a good one but the apparent folky flavour might be a stumbling block in those changing years when early punk and other returns to rock roots threatened to marginalize us more musical and aesthetic types. At any rate, the response from TULL fans was a good one and even in the UK, a bolstering of TULL's fortunes kept us on track as a major touring and recording band.
    The detail and finer points of instrumentation in the recording are more evident in this re-master. Complex vocal harmonies abound. Mandolins and electric guitars sit down together for game pie washed down with Port. Peterson pipes belch their foul but seductive manly odours. Martin Barre is driving an outsize Bentley. I wrestle with an ancient Land Rover through muddy tracks and over the high Chiltern Hills of Buckinghamshire. I sleep with a feral farm cat named Mistletoe. (Found him squeaking under a cattle trough just before Christmas.) We fire our PR man.
    Old Jo Lustig passed away suddenly just a couple of years ago and I like to think he might have enjoyed some memories rekindled by this music. Crazy man Lustig. Boy, he pissed me off sometimes. Dedicated to you, Jo. Sleep on.

    Ian Anderson 2003

    Let me bring you all things refined:
    Galliards and lute songs saved in chilling ale
    Greetings, well - met fellow, hail !
    I am the wind to fill your sail.
    A singer of these ageless times
    With kitchen prose, and gutter rhymes

    ©1977 The ANDERSON GROUP OF COMPANIES / CHRYSALIS RECORDS PUBLISHING Ltd.




    1. Songs From The Wood

      Let me bring you songs from the wood:
      to make you feel much better than you could know.
      Dust you down from tip to toe.
      Show you how the garden grows.
      Hold you steady as you go.
      Join the chorus if you can:
      it'll make of you an honest man.
      Let me bring you love from the field:
      poppies red and roses filled with summer rain.
      To heal the wound and still the pain
      that threatens again and again
      as you drag down every lover's lane.
      Life's long celebration's here.
      I'll toast you all in penny cheer.
      Let me bring you all things refined:
      galliards and lute songs served in chilling ale.
      Greetings well met fellow, hail!
      I am the wind to fill your sail.
      I am the cross to take your nail:
      A singer of these ageless times.
      With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes.
      Songs from the wood make you feel much better.

    2. Jack-In-The-Green

      Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green?
      With his long tail hanging down.
      He sits quietly under every tree ---
      in the folds of his velvet gown.
      He drinks from the empty acorn cup
      the dew that dawn sweetly bestows.
      And taps his cane upon the ground ---
      signals the snowdrops it's time to grow.

      It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green ---
      no place to dance, no time for song.
      He wears the colours of the summer soldier ---
      carries the green flag all the winter long.

      Jack, do you never sleep ---
      does the green still run deep in your heart?
      Or will these changing times,
      motorways, powerlines,
      keep us apart?
      Well, I don't think so ---
      I saw some grass growing through the pavements today.

      The rowan, the oak and the holly tree
      are the charges left for you to groom.
      Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green.
      Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night.
      And we are the berries on the holly tree.
      Oh, the mistlethrush is coming.
      Jack, put out the light.

    3. Cup Of Wonder

      May I make my fond excuses
      for the lateness of the hour,
      but we accept your invitation, and we bring you Beltane's flower.
      For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
      And those who ancient lines did lay
      will heed the song that calls them back.
      Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
      Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

      Ask the green man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red.
      Ask the old grey standing stones that show the sun its way to bed.
      Question all as to their ways,
      and learn the secrets that they hold.
      Walk the lines of nature's palm
      crossed with silver and with gold.
      Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
      Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

      Join in black December's sadness,
      lie in August's welcome corn.
      Stir the cup that's ever-filling
      with the blood of all that's born.
      But the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
      And those who ancient lines did lay
      will heed this song that calls them back.
      Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
      Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

    4. Hunting Girl

      One day I walked the road and crossed a field
      to go by where the hounds ran hard.
      And on the master raced: behind the hunters chased
      to where the path was barred.
      One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear.
      I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared.

      Crop handle carved in bone;
      sat high upon a throne of finest English leather.
      The queen of all the pack,
      this joker raised his hat and talked about the weather.
      All should be warned about this high born Hunting Girl.
      She took this simple man's downfall in hand;
      I raised the flag that she unfurled.

      Boot leather flashing and spurnecks the size of my thumb.
      This highborn hunter had tastes as strange as they come.
      Unbridled passion: I took the bit in my teeth.
      Her standing over --- me on my knees underneath.

      My lady, be discrete.
      I must get to my feet and go back to the farm.
      Whilst I appreciate you are no deviate,
      I might come to some harm.
      I'm not inclined to acts refined, if that's how it goes.
      Oh, high born Hunting Girl,
      I'm just a normal low born so and so.

    5. Ring Out, Solstice Bells

      Now is the solstice of the year,
      winter is the glad song that you hear.
      Seven maids move in seven time.
      Have the lads up ready in a line.

      Ring out these bells.
      Ring out, ring solstice bells.
      Ring solstice bells.

      Join together beneath the mistletoe.
      by the holy oak whereon it grows.
      Seven druids dance in seven time.
      Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.

      Ring out these bells.
      Ring out, ring solstice bells.
      Ring solstice bells.

      Praise be to the distant sister sun,
      joyful as the silver planets run.
      Seven maids move in seven time.
      Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
      Ring out those bells.
      Ring out, ring solstice bells.
      Ring solstice bells.
      Ring on, ring out.
      Ring on, ring out.

    6. Velvet Green

      Walking on velvet green. Scots pine growing.
      Isn't it rare to be taking the air, singing.
      Walking on velvet green.
      Walking on velvet green. Distant cows lowing.
      Never a care: with your legs in the air, loving.
      Walking on velvet green.
      Won't you have my company, yes, take it in your hands.
      Go down on velvet green, with a country man.
      Who's a young girls fancy and an old maid's dream.
      Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green.
      One dusky half-hour's ride up to the north.
      There lies your reputation and all that you're worth.
      Where the scent of wild roses turns the milk to cream.
      Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green.
      And the long grass blows in the evening cool.
      And August's rare delight may be April's fool.
      But think not of that, my love,
      I'm tight against the seam.
      And I'm growing up to meet you down on velvet green.
      Now I may tell you that it's love and not just lust.
      And if we live the lie, let's lie in trust.
      On golden daffodils, to catch the silver stream
      that washes out the wild oat seed on velvet green.
      We'll dream as lovers under the stars ---
      of civilizations raging afar.
      And the ragged dawn breaks on your battle scars.
      As you walk home cold and alone upon velvet green.
      Walking on velvet green. Scots pine growing.
      Isn't it rare to be taking the air, singing.
      Walking on velvet green.
      Walking on velvet green. Distant cows lowing.
      Never a care: with your legs in the air, loving.
      Walking on velvet green.

    7. The Whistler

      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.

      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.

      Deep red are the sun-sets 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.

    8. Pibroch (Cap In Hand)

      There's a light in the house in the wood in the valley.
      There's a thought in the head of the man.
      Who carries his dreams like the coat slung on his shoulder,
      Bringing you love in the cap in his hand.
      And each step he takes is one half of a lifetime:
      no word he would say could you understand.
      So he bundles his regrets into a gesture of sorrow,
      Bringing you love cap in hand.
      Catching breath as he looks through the dining-room window:
      candle lit table for two has been laid.
      Strange slippers by the fire.
      Strange boots in the hallway.
      Put my cap on my head.
      I turn and walk away.

    9. Fire At Midnight

      I believe in fires at midnight ---
      when the dogs have all been fed.
      A golden toddy on the mantle ---
      a broken gun beneath the bed.
      Silken mist outside the window.
      Frogs and newts slip in the dark ---
      too much hurry ruins the body.
      I'll sit easy ... fan the spark
      kindled by the dying embers of another working day.
      Go upstairs ... take off your makeup ---
      fold your clothes neatly away.
      Me, I'll sit and write this love song
      as I all too seldom do ---
      build a little fire this midnight.
      It's good to be back home with you.

    10. Beltane

      Have you ever stood in the April wood and called the New Year in ?
      While the phantoms of three thousand years fly as the dead leaves spin ?
      There's a snap in the grass behind your feet and a tap upon your shoulder.
      And the thin wind crawls along your neck: it's just the old gods getting older.
      And the kestrel drops like a fall of shot and the red cloud's hanging high
      — come-a Beltane.

      Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth ?
      And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth ?
      Thrust your head between the breasts of the fertile innocent.
      And taken up the cause of love, for the sake of argument.
      Or while the kisses drop like a fall of shot from soft lips in the rain -
      come-a Beltane.
      Happy old Mew Year to you and yours.
      The sun's up for one more day, to be sure.
      Play it out gladly, for your card's marked again.

      Have you walked around your parks and towns so knife-edged orderly ?
      While the fires are burned on the hills upturned in far-off wiid country.
      And felt the chill on your window-sill as the green man comes around.
      With his walking cane of sweet hazel brings it crashing down.
      Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites. Well, it's just your growing pains.
      Come-a Beltane. Come-a Beltane.