Ian Anderson

Come with me to the Winged Isle - Northern father's Western child Where the Dance of Ages is playing still through far marches of Acres Wild.

Bring me a wheel of oaken wood A rein of polished leather A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather.

Give us Direction; the best of goodwill; Put us in touch with fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum the evening's song-- Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you. --from Weathercock