Old Ghosts Jethro Tull текст и слова песни

Hair stands high on the cat's back like

a ridge of threatening hills.

Sheepdogs howl, make tracks and growl -

their tails hanging low.

And young children falter in their games

at the altar of life's hide-and-seek

between tall pillars, where Sunday-night killers

in grey raincoats peek.


Misty colours unfold in a backcloth cold -

fine tapestry of silk

I draw around me like a cloak

and glide a-drifting

on eddies whirled in beech leaves furled -

brown and gold they fly