Vintage Whine

I’ll play Bacchus for the evening
Pray, be seated, take your places
Should my manner seem displeasing
Offend your airs and graces
I’ve a list long as your arm
The connoisseur’s selection
Such bitter whines, a quaff of qualms
Awaiting your inspection
The bubbles burst, this ain’t «sham-pain»
I’ve watched hopes wither on the vine
The fruits of labour’s toil in vain
I reap soul grapes at harvest time
Anno 1999: a classic year for vintage whine!
Since it’s drawn I must sup the cellarage of sorrow
Yet fate refills my tarnished cup each time I drain the dregs
Their poison cannot kill me, new strength from it I’ll borrow
My maudlin is a caudle that would fill a thousand kegs
Here’s one for the road, afore ye go
Drink deep, sweet lads and lasses
Those blighted crops you gladly sow
Shall one day fill your glasses
Brood for decades, pure hate distilled
Then bottled up much longer
Revenge, a draught I’ll serve you chilled
When time has made it stronger
Non-cordial, it’s bile bouquet
Laments ferment, the patience «schnapps»
Cask full of mulled futile dismay
My well-aged rage, you’ve turned the taps
Anno 1999: a classic year for vintage whine!
Since it’s drawn I must sup the cellarage of sorrow
Yet fate refills my tarnished cup each time I drain the dregs
Their poison cannot kill me, new strength from it I’ll borrow
My maudlin is a caudle that would fill a thousand kegs
Anno 1999: a classic year for vintage whine!