St. Stephen - Ty Segall

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

Hell halfway 'twixt now and then

Stephen fill it up and lower

Ladyfinger dipped in moonlight

Writing «What for?»

across the morning sky

Sunlight splatters dawn with answers

Darkness shrugs and bids the day goodbye

Speeding arrow, sharp and narrow

Wrap the babe in scarlet covers, call it your own

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