Speeding arrow, talk about your plenty St., calliope woman
Wrap the babe in scarlet covers, talk about your plenty, all he s lost he shall regain
talk about your ills
Saint stephen with a rose, spinning that curious sense of your own, writing what for? across the morning sky
Stephen prospered in his time, the people all complain, sharp and narrow
Wherever he goes, the people all complain
Spinning that curious sense of your own, sharp and narrow, what a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned
sunlight splatters dawn with answers
darkness shrugs and bids the day good-bye
Writing what for? across the morning sky, sharp and narrow Stephen, one man gathers what another man spills
Can you answer, talk about your ills
Sunlight splatters dawn with answers, hell halfway twixt now and then
spinning that curious sense of your own
one man gathers what another man spills
Writing what for? across the morning sky, speeding arrow, calliope woman
Talk about your ills, one man gathers what another man spills, writing what for? across the morning sky
seashore washed by the suds and foam
Did he doubt or did he try, well he may and he may decline
Wishing well with a golden bell, country garland in the wind and the rain
Wishing well with a golden bell, did he doubt or did he try
Stephen fill it up and lower down, one man gathers what another man spills, the people all complain
Seashore washed by the suds and foam, talk about your plenty, ladyfinger dipped in moonlight
Fortune comes a-crawling, did it matter Grateful, bucket hanging clear to hell
call it your own
Several seasons with their treasons, saint stephen will remain
Spinning that curious sense of your own, darkness shrugs and bids the day good-bye
I Would like to thank my crazy hippie Mama for making the grateful dead be the first music she introduced me to when I was a child I love this thank you! (~):} Dead head 4 life!
What a great song. I've seen all kinds of interpretations of the lyrics over the years. In the end, I think it's best appreciated for painting a beautiful tapestry of images and creating a mysterious, resilient and lovable character in St. Stephen. Another Robert Hunter classic lyric creation. Robert Hunter - RIP.
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?
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 good-bye.
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 hes lost he shall regain,
Seashore washed by the suds and foam,
Been here so long, hes 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?
I feel the Grateful Dead were the last of the dying art of the pre-modern world. St. Stephen most definitely reminds me of that most noble of knights errant Don Quixote of La Mancha.
my dad was in a bad car wreck when i was 17 and i brought him one of my dead bears to have in the hospital...the surgeon who was treating him saw it and he asked my dad if he was a fan..of course my dad said yes..and told him the last time he seen them was in chicago in 93..the surgeon laughed and said "me too". The surgeon operated on my dad listening to greatest hits. I think that is awesome. Just surreal how music can connect us to each other.
I like how the album art fits the music perfectly. It adds to it, it makes the music much more enjoyable (even though it is VERY enjoyable already.) Like my comment if you're a proud Deadhead!!