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St. Stephen

St. Stephen has not been seen in 1847 Phish shows.
It has not yet been performed live.
It was played at 0.06% of live shows.
It has been performed live 1 time(s).

Music: Garcia/Lesh

Lyrics: Hunter

Original Artist: Grateful Dead

Original Album: Aoxomoxoa (1969)

Vocals: Instrumental

Debut: 1984-11-03

Historian: Mark Toscano, lumpblockclod


"St. Stephen" is just one of the several Dead songs that appear in the setlists of early Phish shows. So far, only one known performance of this song has been discovered, and it takes the form of a “St. Stephen” jam rather than a complete interpretation of the song. Following an admirable but somewhat embarrassing version of “Bertha,” the guys jammed on “Stephen” for a spell before moving onto the more raucous “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” (which itself ended up hosting a “St. Stephen” tease). Though this early show is fun for novelty and historical purposes, fans looking for a solid version with members of Phish might want to check out any one of several Phil and Friends versions involving Trey: 4/16/99 (which also features Page), 2/12/06 and 6/30/06.



Watch St. Stephen on YouTube


Lyrics:

(Garcia/Lesh/Hunter)
© Ice Nine Publishing Company, Inc.

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 prosper 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 answers
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 colours, call it your own

Did he doubt or did he try?
Answers a-plenty in the by and by
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 the 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?

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