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Vintage Whine Lyrics
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.
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
I've watched hopes wither on the vine
The fruits of labours toiled in vain
I reap soul-grapes at harvest time.
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.
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
Laments ferment the patience schnapps
Cask full of mulled futile dismay
My well-aged-rage - you 've turned the taps
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.
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Bacchus is the Greek god of wine, and symbolizes the mind in this circumstance. Problems are kept in the back of the mind, as wine is kept in the cellar, and problems sit and get stronger as does wine.