I’ll paly Bacchus for the evening,
pray, be seated, take your places
Should my manna 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 inspections
The bubbles burst — this aint sham-pain
I’ve watched hopes wither on the vine
The fruits of labours toiled in vain
I reap soul-grapes at harvest time.
Anno 1999 — a classic year for Vintage Whine.
[CHORUS :]
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.
[CHORUS :]
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.