歌詞

The cups are drying on the rack

Like small moons put to bed

The cloth is folded, lace and all

The tiers are bare and clean

The cozy hangs upon its hook

A well-earned go-between

The kitchen hums its evening note

The week has been repaid

Complete, complete, the table's rest

And so, at last, is mine

He finishes the good He starts

And this whole hour was Thine

The lamb is one small sleeping cloud

Its chin on one clean plate

Guarding, even in its dreams

The crumbs of half past eight

Tomorrow is a brand-new page

Tonight needs nothing more

Complete, complete, the table's rest

And so, at last, is mine

He finishes the good He starts

And this whole hour was Thine

A week well worked, a table set

A tower eaten down

An hour kept against the rush —

The gentlest kind of crown

Mmm... mmm... mmm

Complete, complete, the table's rest

And so, at last, is mine

He finishes the good He starts

And this whole hour was Thine

Complete, complete, the table's rest

And so, at last, is mine

He finishes the good He starts

And this whole hour was Thine

The cups are dry, the lamp is low

And everything is well