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Minstrel In The Gallery
Martin Barre
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down upon the smiling faces
He met the gazes, observed the spaces
In between the old man's cackle
And he brewed a song of love and hatred
For bleak suggestions and he waited
He polarized the pumpkin-eaters
Standing, humming banal beaters
The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down on the rabid run
Then he threw away his looking glass
And saw his face in everyone
He titillated men of action
Belly-warming, head-sill rubbing
On the part he'd never mention
Salaried and color scrubbing, yeah
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He pacified the nappy suffering
Hip and bleating one-eyed jokers
TV documentary makers
Over-fed and undertakers
Sunday paper backgammon players
Grandma, Scotland, women-haters
And then he called the band down to the stage
And he looked at all the friends he'd made
That minstrel in the gallery
Looked down on the rabid run
Then he threw away his looking glass
And saw his face in everyone
ย
Ooh, that minstrel in the gallery
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Looked down upon the smiling faces
ย
That minstrel in the gallery
That minstrel in the gallery
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