Grateful Dead St. Stephen Lyrics

Saint Stephen with a rose, in and out of the garden he goes, Country garden in the wind and the rain,
Wherever he goes the people all complain.
Stephen prospered in his time, well he may and he may
decline.
Did it matter, does it now? Stephen would answer if he only knew how.
Wishing well with a golden bell, bucket hanging clear to
hell, Hell halfway twixt now and then,
Stephen fill it up and lower down and lower down again.
Lady finger, dipped in moonlight, writing "What for?" across the morning sky.
Sunlight splatters, dawn with answer, darkness shrugs and bids the day goodbye.
Speeding arrow, sharp and narrow, What a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned.
Several seasons with their treasons, Wrap the babe in scarlet colors, call it your own.
Did he doubt or did he try? Answers aplenty in the bye and bye,
Talk about your plenty, talk about your ills,
One man gathers what another man spills.
Saint Stephen will remain, all he's lost he shall regain, Seashore washed by the suds and foam,
Been here so long, he's got to calling it home.
Fortune comes a crawlin', calliope woman, spinnin' that curious sense of your own.
Can you answer? Yes I can. But what would be the answer to the answer man?

High green chilly winds and windy vines in loops around the
twining shafts of lavender, they're crawling to the sun

Underfoot the ground is patched with climbing arms of ivy
wrapped around the manzanita, stark and shiny in the breeze

Wonder who will water all the children of the garden when they
sigh about the barren lack of rain and droop so hungry 'neath the
sky...

William Tell has stretched his bow till it won't stretch no
furthermore and/or it may require a change that hasn't come
before