Wine-Ing

I was such a younger man

When first swung on the vine

Bowing down before Bacchus

Chugging that cheap wine

Almaden could save our souls

It's what we could afford

But it never tasted quite like blood

Poured from out my Lord

Sip it now and savour it

The taste of ageing time

We love the brand new bottles, but:

It's the same damn wine

In our haste, we'd jam the screw

And pull with too much torque

We'd find our lyrics lying there

Amidst the bits of cork

Dive into a French Chateau

On the barrels of your thirst

You will no doubt hit the glass

And hurt yourself, head-first

I'll take a cab down to the bar

And meet you there, sirrah

We'll wash away all our Zinns

With one last wet hurrah

Now we can afford a grape

That won't offend our tongues

We can only drink a draught

Before the Night Train comes