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• Artiste: Slapp Happy
• Titre: Slow Moon's Rose
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Now that the slow moon's rose on a silver trellis grows, Where artic rivers froze, now that the ocean is frozen in motion, Snow morning comes. And the birds on the wing have nothing left to sing, blown in blue glass like a schooner held fast on the ice. Besides that river Where I picked the slow moon's rose - I watched the evening wither with a jewel at the end of my nose. Tell-tale snails leave their trails, running from hunters' black blunderbus under the sun. Besides that river Where I picked the slow moon's rose - I watched the evening wither with a jewel at the end of my nose. Tell-tale snails leave their trails, running from hunters' black blunderbus under the sun.