| Of vintage wine, I am a lover; To drink deep would be my delight; If 'twere not for the bleak hangover I'd get me loaded every night I'd whoop it up with song and laughter Whoop it up with song and laughter Whoop it up with song and laughter If 'twere not for the morning after. |
| For though to soberness I'm given It is a thought I've often thunk: The nearest that is Earth to Heaven Is to get sublimely drunk; Is to achieve divine elation To achieve divine elation To achieve divine elation By means of generous libation. |
| Alas, the wine-cups claim their payment And as the price is often pain, If we could sense what morning grey meant We never would get soused again; Rather than buy a hob-nailed liver Rather than buy a hob-nailed liver Rather than buy a hob-nailed liver I'm sure that we'd abstain forever. |
| Yet how I love the glow of liquor, As joyfully I drink it up! Hoping that unto life's last flicker With praise I'll raise the ruby cup; And let me like a jolly monk And let me like a jolly monk And let me like a jolly monk Proceed to get subli-i-imely drunk. |
Taken From Finest Kind's CD "Lost in a Song", 1996