St. Stephen (Live/Dead, Live At The Fillmore West, San Francisco, CA, 2/27/1969) Songtext
von Grateful Dead

Saint Stephen with a rose
In and out of the garden he goes
Country garland 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
Head on thirty-six now
When will Stephen fill it up and lower down
And lower down again?


Ladyfinger dipped in moonlight
Writing "What for?" across the morning sky
Sunlight splatters dawn with the 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 covers, 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 walked by the sun in the foam
Been here so long, he's got to calling it home
Fortune comes a-crawling, calliope woman
With a curious sense of your own
Can you answer? Yes, I can
But what would be the answer to the cancer man?

High green chilly winds and windy vines
That loops around the twining
Shafts of lavender that crawl into the sun
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


Underfoot the ground is patched
With climbing arms of ivy wrapped
Around the Manzanita, stark and shiny in the breeze
William Tell has stretched and flowed
'Til the end won't stretch no further for e′er
More it may require a trade that hasn′t come before