Text: Jethro Tull. Under Wraps. European Legacy.

She smiles at me from beyond the eastern sea-shore.
Flashing jewelled eyes, she hoists her skirts so high.
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar it's really up to her.
I'll write every cheque she brings to me.
I shoot on sight it's my European legacy.
Round the castle walls about the Highlands and the Islands
the faint reminders stand. Visitors who took a hand
a thousand years ago, or so stranded high and dry by tides
washed up a new identity.
The channel's wide but it's their European legacy.

I strain my eyes against the southern light advancing.
On whiter cliffs I'm high. The sea birds roll and tumble as they fly.
I hear distant mainland music echo in my island ears.

My feet begin to move instinctively
to the warmer beat of my European legacy.

She smiles at me from beyond the eastern sea-shore.
Flashing jewelled eyes, she hoists her skirts so high.
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar it's really up to her.
I'll write every cheque she brings to me.
She shoots on sight it's her European legacy.