Ian Anderson - The Turnpike Inn lyrics

Go no farther: access denied down byways, freeways of the past. The superhighway tollhouse humbly begs your pause, so just hold fast. A word in ear, free marketeer suggests you ponders, and takes your choice. For right of pa**age, freight or message, change your horses, raise your voice in protest at the pretty penny taken for your mortal sins. But dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Beware the brigand, pistols drawn, who offers life for modest fee and ends his days like poor John Austin, last man on the Tyburn Tree. The palest ale, the stoutest porter fortify the heart, the breast. Weary head on eider pillow, horse blanket over, down to rest. Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown your sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Though we too steal from honest wage, come lie with us, good kith and kin and dally now in sweet surrender, drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn. Drown sorrows at the Turnpike Inn.