Starter

Lyrics

There's a jar by the stove with a cloth on top
Flour and water and a little bit of time
A friend gave me half of what she had
Said feed it every day and it'll be fine
It bubbles up when the kitchen's warm
It sighs when the evening's cold
I talk to it some when I'm on my own
It's a quiet thing to hold

Feed it, wait for it, let it rise
Good things take the long way round
Stir in the morning, sleep through the night
And the dough will find its ground
Nobody hurries what's alive
It grows at its own slow pace
Feed it, wait for it, let it rise
There's room at the table, a place

The first loaf came out flat as a stone
I laughed and I ate it anyway
The second was better, the crust was gold
And the whole house smelled of Saturday
I left one on the neighbour's step
With a note that said, still warm
She sent me back a jar of plums
And we met in the lane at dawn

Feed it, wait for it, let it rise
Good things take the long way round
Stir in the morning, sleep through the night
And the dough will find its ground
Nobody hurries what's alive
It grows at its own slow pace
Feed it, wait for it, let it rise
There's room at the table, a place

I used to count the hours I lost
Waiting on this or that
Now I watch the bubbles climb
And I don't mind sitting back
Some days are for the doing
Some days are for the rest
And the jar on the shelf keeps teaching me
That slow can be the best

I'll pass a spoonful on to you
In a clean glass by the door
Tell you what my friend told me
Then you'll know the rest and more
It carries on from hand to hand
A small and living thing
Every kitchen where it lands
Is a place for it to begin

Feed it, wait for it, let it rise
Good things take the long way round
Stir in the morning, sleep through the night
And the dough will find its ground
Nobody hurries what's alive
It grows at its own slow pace
Feed it, wait for it, let it rise
There's room at the table, a place

Feed it, wait for it
Let it rise
There's room at the table
A place