Skyclad Vintage Whine
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. 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.