AQUALUNG     Jethro Tull

E-----------------------------------------------------------------------

B-------------------6--6-6---8-8--8--10--10-10-----------------------------

G-------------------6--6-6---8-8--8--10--10-10---------------------------------------7----

D-------------------6--6-6---8-8--8--10--10-10---------------------------------------7---

A---5-----3-4-3---4--4-4---6-6--6----8---8--8---6-8-6-8-9---1-1-1-4----4-2-----7-------

E-----3-6---------------------------------------------------------9-----------4-------2--5-----

  Sit-ting on a park bench        eyeing little girls  with bad intent

   Db Db Db Eb Eb Eb F F F Eb F Eb F Gb Db

  Snot is  runnig down his nose   greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes  Hey Aqualung

  Eb Eb Eb Db Gb Gb E B D

  Drying in the cold sun    watching as the frilly panties run     Hey Aqualung

  Feeling like a dead duck      spitting out pieces of  his broken luck     Oh Aqualung

 

 Gm                   F                                        C    

Sun streaking cold an old man wandring lonely,

Cm                   Gm               F

taking time the only way he knows.

Gm               F                                       C                  

Legs hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog end .

      Cm                      Gm                         F

He goes down to the bog and warms his feet.

Gm         F                                 C

Feeling alone the army's up the road,

     Cm           Gm                         F

salvation a la mode and a cup of tea.

Gm                 F                                              C 

Aqualung my friend, don't you  start away uneasy.

        Cm                       Gm              F

You poor old sod, you see it's only me.

 

Gm                                    F                      Gm

Do you still remember Decembers foggy freeze

                                          F

when the ice that clings onto your beard

                               Gm

was screaming agony?

                                              F                                                 Gm

And you snatch your ratling last breaths with deep sea diver sounds

             Cm                                                  F

and the flowers bloom like madness in the spring.

 

Gm                 F                                        C

Sun streaking cold an old man wandring lonely,

Cm                   Gm               F

taking time the only way he knows.

Gm                               F                       C                  

Legs hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog end .

        Cm                    Gm                         F

He goes down to the bog and warms his feet.