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Grateful Dead - Saint Stephen

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
...
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