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 half way 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 crawling calliope woman

Spinning that curious sense of your own

Can you answer

Yes I can

But what would be the answer to the answer man