John T. Baker, In Praise of Wine</head><body><center><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.com/p1.gif border=0 alt=Saviodsilva></center><hr color=3C00FF size=4><br><font size=4 face=arial><b><a href=20.htm>John T. Baker</a></b></font><br><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.net/poem/a/1.JPG border=0 alt=Poem></center><br><font size=3 face=arial><b>In Praise of Wine</a></b></font></center><blockquote><blockquote><p align=left><font face=arial size=2><b>When I'm no longer here and am called to appear<br>Up on high on that Last Judgment Day<br>And our Maker begins to examine my sins,<br>I can truthfully then only say:<br>I do not, I'll exclaim, now remember the name<br>Of the girl or the village that May;<br>I but dimly recall the encounter at all,<br>But the wine was a fine Cabernet.<br>All the times that I strayed, all the errors I made,<br>While I wondered which way I should go,<br>Of those toilsome travails I forget the details,<br>But the wine was a fine Merlot.<br>And my deeds on that date when, sad to relate,<br>I succumbed to unworthy desire,<br>As you well might expect, I cannot recollect,<br>But the wine was a fine Pinot Noir.<br>How I'd hunt high and low for that special Bordeaux;<br>I'd pursue every new Beaujolais;<br>And I'd spend money, Lord, I could then ill afford<br>When the wine was a fine Chardonnay.<br>So I humbly report all my sins to this court<br>And I pray for Your pardon divine;<br>As You add up my score, I can ask nothing more<br>Than to help turn the water to wine.</b></font> </blockquote></blockquote><hr color=0000ca size=3><center><font size=2 face=arial><b><a href=http://www.isavo.net/poem/sk3.htm>This Poem's Index Page 1</a><br><a href=http://www.yensa.net/poem/sk3.htm>This Poem's Index 2</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com/poems.htm>Poetry Website</a><br><a href=http://www.saviodsilva.com>Saviodsilva</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com>Isavo Site</a></b></font></center><SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript SRC=http://www.saviodsilva.org/r/fantasy.js></SCRIPT></body></html>