Swing It Far - Ian Anderson

I was no good on the rugger field

Pushing and kicking, brutish boys bothered me

Sensitive and caring seemed the lighter, brighter way to be

Mr Jennings, good housemaster, seemed instinctively to understand

Touched me with his gentle presence

Under bedclothes, underhand.

Underhand

Overnight, he did a runner, threatened with harsh expose

I fell to pieces, dropped out of classes into life’s endless melee

Endless melee

Parents listened, didn’t get it.

Poof and Jesse, Daddy said

Mummy tried but fussed and fretted, skeletons best left under bed

Under the bed

Camden Market in the winter

A cold stone’s throw from Kentish Town

Got a minute?

Just the ticket!

Meet the boys and mess around

And mess around

Independence far from suburbia

Doss down and dirty, tucked up tight

How’s your father?

Not too chipper?

Serves the bugger flippin' right

Flippin' right

Parents listened, didn’t get it.

Poof and Jesse, Daddy said

Mummy tried but fussed and fretted, skeletons best left under bed

On the streets a rude survival, hot like-minded overtures

Sad departure, sweet arrival.

If you don’t like it, right up yours!

There comes a point when deep conviction bears down hard on who you are

Pointless to don cloak of denial

Get the lead out and swing it far… swing it far…

Swing it far… swing it far… swing it far… swing it…