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Blogs > HISsissyboi4Evr > Autumn's diatribe of nonsense |
St. Stephen
St. Stephen Ron "Pigpen" McKernan. Ronald Charles McKernan (September 8, 1945 – March 8, 1973) "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 hangin' 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 and talk about your ills One man gathers what another man spills Saint Stephen will remain All he lost he shall regain Seashore washed by the suds and foam Been here so long, he's got to callin' it home Fortune comes a crawlin', calliope woman Spinnin' that curious sense of your own Can you answer? Yes, I can What would be the answer to the answer man? High green chilly winds and windy Vines and loops around the twining Shafts of lavender, they're crawling to the sun Wonder who will water all the of the garden When they sigh about the barren lack of rain and troop so hungry 'neath the sky, ay Underfoot the ground is patched With climbing arms of ivy wrapped around The Manzanita, dark and shiny in the breeze William Tell has stretched the bow Till it won't stretch no furthermore And all that they require in change That hasn't gone before" St. Stephen Thanks for your precious time. Hugs and kisses, Autumn Luna |
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