Harvest ye grape vines while ye may,
The fruit are not for keeping:
And this same vine that droops today,
Tomorrow will be sleeping.
The glorious wine of Heaven, the one
That’s made of Pinot noir;
The sooner is the harvest done,
The party can be start.
That wine is best, which is the first,
When taste and sense are warmer;
But being drunk, the worse, and worst
Wines, will succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but take your wine;
And while ye may, go drinking:
For having lost but once your mind,
...whatever were you thinking?
Apologies to Robert Herrick.