once our auntie mable spake unto me
they, unbeknownest, would hang me and then
she so riddled as to the whys and when
as faith, chaff me not,and i will tell thee
child,tis but a sin,to ask,verily..
for i was only a boy.. nine or ten
or so in truth for i have forgotten
but that which remains in my memory
why..and transfixed by ruby drops of wine
that cascaded from off  her lily white chin
as she drank and ****** in lost residues
as the last **** and the barman calls time
as it seems that such loss has turned to wine
in vino there is love and veritas..