The Glass Of Wine Poem by Stephen Taylor

The glass of wine, sitting pretty on the table
Mockingly says, don't drink me if you are able

See how crimson rose I appear
Just one glass won't bring a tear

I'm good for the heart, the fool says
I'm being smart, I prolong my days

But, after one, there will have to be two
And after two, I'll have you

We'll sing and dance for the first three or four
And after eight, you'll still want more

Then my moment comes, somewhere around ten
You pray to God, to pardon your sin

And I laugh at you, and all your kind
Who think so wise, yet be so blind