The packaging seems overdone

A brown paper bag and you’ve already won

The orange hue around the rim

seems to be a bit posh, prim

The aroma, scent, hue of air

is nothing that would make me care

The long drawn taste at back of tongue

may only be a draw for some

I do like your deep red colour

but your not there to be wallpaper

Just don’t hurt my head the ‘morrow

I drink you not for sorrow

As papered press says your fine

To me you will always be wine

So be constant and there for me

And when I age I’ll be there for thee

I ask for no pretention of you

Just warn me next time I need a screw