Jethro Tull


The minstrels in the gallery

The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes — observed the spaces between the old men’s cackle. He brewed a song of love and hatred — oblique suggestions — and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters — static-humming panel-beaters — freshly day-glow’d factory cheaters (salaried and collar-scrubbing). For […]