"We can't delay, it is a bold Pinot!"
I'm an oenophile to you.
You think I know must, brix scales, and Bordeaux.
I few terms I toss off, like "legs"; I've got you fooled.

So you believe me when I give advice
I bullshit you about lees
You ask if this shelf wine is worth its price
I say "sincerely," to you, "On that swill I'd sneeze!"

CHORUS:
Quaff, quaff, "I'm a wine guy,"
I tell you convincingly
Laugh, laugh, I meant to lie
It's rotgut that appeals to me
Only Gallo, only.

I'm trying to be punny when I say,
"Sauternes around for dessert."
You turn around, but I have got Tokay.
If you knew where it came from, it would really hurt.

You say it's sake that you wish we had
To wash down slabs of ono.
I'd rather brown-bag with white port and shad,
But if I admitted that, you'd gasp, "Oh, no!"

CHORUS

Before I go, let's each have one last drink
But don't pour beers for me
You say, "On ice is a bottle of Riesling."
I'm just praying, girl, it's sweet and syrupy.

But it's not cloying, so I am appalled
It's dry--would pair well with whelk.
Still, I don't toy around and drink it all--
I pipe up, staggering just like a drunken elk.

Drat! Drat! I got pie-eyed
Tongue loose, I talked liberally
Chat, chat. . .told her I lied:
"Rotgut's ambrosia to me."

Stoned me, she stoned, stoned me.