A Gift Of Roses — Jethro Tull

I count the hours: you count the days.

Together, we count the minutes in this passion play.

Walk dusty miles. and I ride that train

On a first class ticket, just to be with you again.

Picking up tired feet. back from a far horizon.

Cleaned up and brushed down. dressed to look the part.

Fresh from gods garden, I bring a gift of roses:

To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.

Like the kipling cat, I walk alone -

Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone.

But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin.

Lightyour guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.