Tull Tuesday #1

A week or so ago, I was thinking about my blogging and how it’s changed over the last 13 years. The stories that used to come to me in the night now evade me. One thing that has been a relative constant however, is my music and especially the “Sunday Pipes” series, now 81 installments old.

There have been some recent discussions with friends revolving around the band Jethro Tull and the wide variety of music they have served up in over a half century. Being extremally familiar with the Tull catalog, I thought, “Why Not?”

While I know I have often fallen short, I always try to make my posts interesting across the diverse group of readers of the blog, whether on WordPress, Tumbler, FB or LinkedIn. That being said, some of my more esoteric posts have the most views. Go figure.

So, I will begin a series where each Tuesday, I will feature a song by the band, and/or solo work by members, past and present. You will be surprised at the wide rang styles.

Let’s see how it works out.

Spending about an hour last night to find the video to launch this series, I settled upon a live performance from 2003 of a song from the Songs From The Wood album (1977). It is a lighthearted piece about a horsewoman with a somewhat unusual attraction to leather. In my opinion, this was the very best lineup for the band. . . Ian Anderson, vocals & flute, Martin Barre, guitar, Doane Perry, drums, Jonathan Noyce, bass guitar and Andrew Giddings, keyboards.

Hunting Girl, with lyrics below.

Lyrics

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 discreet. 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.

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Ian Anderson