In Praise of Wine

Donate to Marie Curie Cancer Care

When I’m no longer here and am called to appear up on high on that Last Judgement Day,

And our Maker begins to examine my sins, I can truthfully then only say:

 

“I do not,” I’ll exclaim, “now remember the name of the girl, or the village that May: I but dimly recall the encounter at all, but the wine was a fine Cabernet.

 

“All the times that I strayed, all the errors I made, while I wondered which way I should go,

Of the toilsome travails I forget the details, but the wine was a fine Merlot.

And my deeds on that date when, sad to relate, I succumbed to unworthy desire,

AS you well might expect, I cannot recollect, but the wine was a fine Pinot Noir.

 

“How I’d hunt high and low for that special Bordeaux; I’d pursue every new Beaujolais:

And I’d spend money, Lord, I could then ill afford when the wine was a fine Chardonnay.

With the rest of the apes I would traipse through the grapes as we sampled the White Zinfandel:

I adored the bouquet of a luscious Tokay, and I idolized Graves and Moselle.

 

“Early on in my youth I discovered vermouth and had more than my share of Vouvray:

I would drink to keep warm any Port in a storm and I quipped as I sipped Montrachet.

I would stock my garage with the best Hermitage, Liebfraumilch, Sauvignon and Chablis:

I imbibed lots of Hock, far too much Armagnac, and I laughed as I quaffed Burgundy.

 

“So I humbly report all my sins to this court and I pray for Your pardon divine:

As you add up my score, I can ask nothing more than to help turn the water to wine.”

 

by John T Baker

 


Tell a friend Tell a friend