Minstrel in the Gallery Jethro Tull

(My lord and lady, we have – fortuitously happened upon these, er, strolling players, who will provide you with, er, goodly tunes whilst you set about your, errr, prandial delights, albeit in the lamentable absence of your guests. So, my lord and lady, for your entertainment!)
['So we're going to through with this?' 'Yeahh, suppose we better had. I can't see down there all right. I don't think they're going to like this much though.']

The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down upon the smiling faces
He met the gazes observed the spaces
Between the old men's cackle

He brewed a song of love and hatred
Oblique suggestions and he waited
He polarised the pumpkin-eaters
Static-humming panel-beaters

Freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters
Salaried and collar-scrubbing
He titillated men of action
Belly warming, hands still rubbing

On the parts they never mention
He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating
One-line jokers, T.V. documentary makers
Overfed and undertakers

Sunday paper backgammon players
Family-scarred and women-haters
Then he called (and he called) the band down to the stage
And he looked at all the friends he'd made