Dinin’ on crêpes, pinin’ for grapes—
tasty Rhône is what I know I need.
Rubble is shed, what do I find?
A delicious potion is left behind.

This oenophile makes it on time;
when the tasting room opens, I am first in line;
Give me a glass of that ’07 cru;
I’ll quaff it and then I will try the 2010.

Upward I traipse in year of grapes—
tasty Rhônes are all I’ll ever need.
Ruby and red, luscious this wine;
I will drink that potion until I’m blind.

Luscious and red, goes to my head—
I’m seeing twice: double vision is bred.
Barman’s peeping: “Brain’s gettin’ too stewed, dude!”
My arm rolls back with a pug’s attitude.

Fryin’ my brain; lie on the plane:
place is prone; I’ve had more than I need.
Trouble in head, drunk till I’m blind;
I cause no commotion. . .on floor reclined.

Troubled is Sue, troubled with me
because her eyes see just an alkie.
“This is the end of wedlock, friend!”
Moue turns to scream; of Mourvèdre I dream.

Filin’ a claim, slicin’ the chain.
Casey Jones, her lawyer, has decreed:
“No longer wed!” What do I find?
I am left with no mon-ey to buy wine!

And so now my potion is turpentine.