Little Jack Horner’s got something to say He’s not sure what it is but he’ll say it today Yes Little Jack Horner’s got something to say I’ve no idea what it is but he’ll say it today He’s been having a bad time in the laboratory None of his experiments are going well Now he’s embarrassed for ready cash yeah And he’s got nothing to sell The poor little fellow is beside himself with worry He doesn’t seem to know which way to turn The chaos in his mind is beyond description It’s as if he never seems to learn Little Miss Muffet’s going to provide some assistance She thinks it’s to do with the cathode resistance She’s going to bring over a new roogalator And all the members of Van Der Graaf Generator Together in the basement they laboured for ages And made the nearby hills resound with thunder With pear-shaped conductors and Faraday cages To the marked consternation of the local boy wonder

I need to talk to someone About the state of my soul Whether it’s in pieces Or whether it’s still whole Maybe you should find yourself a preacher Who could help you get to the bottom of your mind Failing that some new age teacher But be careful of what they might find I need to talk to someone About the state of my soul Whether it’s in pieces Or whether it’s still whole You need to see a psychiatrist Who could help you sort out this mess Mind you they’ll have their work cut out But a gravedigger can deal with all the rest

A train pulls into a station Deep in the countryside The passengers have had a long journey They’re glad to be outside Past newly painted buildings And hanging baskets of flowers They walk to where they’ll be staying And maybe rest for a couple of hours A pair of children’s spectacles Has been dropped by the platform edge There are thousands more piled up Just behind that hedge The passengers have now got ready To enjoy a proper meal While outside the doctors check their pistols To them it’s no big deal The trenches have all been prepared To take the women and men Later in the afternoon It will start all over again

(Instrumental)

Well I’ve heard that you’ve got yourself A new paramour A counterfeit svengali Who’s slipped through the back door He’s a fraud, he’s a cheat And he lies through his teeth And if you weren’t so superficial You’d see what was underneath Well I hear that you’ve got yourself Right in the shit And you’re flouncing around hysterically Because you just can’t deal with it Yes your darling new sweetheart Who cut such a fine dash Has embezzled your trust fund And run off with all your cash

I’m a burned-out purveyor of burned-out opinions A tired horse trader of hackneyed clichés I try to persuade myself that I know my onions But I’m someone well past my salad days I’m just a living null hypothesis A walking schoolboy error I hardly know what time of day it is I’m a tin-pot peddler of mumbo-jumbo A lubricious mealy-mouthed casuist Increasingly ignored by those in the know When I’m gone I’m sure I won’t be missed

(i) There’s a strange cloud on the horizon And a dark feeling inside my chest I have an appalling premonition But my soul is crying out for rest (ii) As you can see I’ve been making a coffin Which will be just right for either me or you I’ve tried it for size and it’s really just fine Give it a try any time you choose I’ve no idea how I shall feel When several people finally depart The ones who sent bolts of lightning Right through my young man’s heart (iii) The misery will be Quite indescribable But I will have a go Underneath my shiny shell Colossal rivers of sorrow will flow And as for you There’s nothing I can really do The world just drifts along Oblivious to what goes on And in the end You’ve got to let it go my friend Yes in the end You’ve got to let it go my friend (iv) (Instrumental) (v) All we do is go round and round in circles Avoiding the ghosts which creep across our minds Dodging the shadows which restlessly hurtle Through the tunnels Like the blind leading the blind In the end the tired secrets tumble For so long hidden up our sleeves So let’s put aside the words with which we fumble And do away with all this make-believe (vi) (Instrumental) (vii) We plough the fields and scatter The seeds of who we really are At the time it doesn’t seem to matter But it never gets us very far I picked up Marcus Aurelius But put it down straightaway What once was such a lifeline Now just belongs to yesterday I know that you know that I know it’s wrong This crazy way of existing just can’t go on (viii) And in the end You’ve got to let it go my friend (ix) I’m stuck in a poky little house Lost in a wretched housing estate A bleak jerry-built celebration Of the truly third-rate It seems to be impossible To stop this ship of fools Going ever faster Towards the waiting maelstrom Unable to avoid total disaster It’s just a question of when Those who were once Young and full of fire Briefly get remembered Then the curtains close And someone cuts the wire (x) At long last our strange review is over No further need for analysis Not that it was worth doing anyway Inevitably all a bit hit-and-miss