Glengarry's Sunday ramblings of all things vinous, grain and glorious. The Sunday Sediment. Issue Seventy-Five
BrittanyWork, Welcome to the Seventy-Fifth edition of The Sunday Sediment, a collection of what’s new, what’s on and what’s happening instore at Glengarry and within the world of wine. Sip away.
A CHRISSMUS POME | GASH
‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas, when all through the store Not a champagne was stirring, because it’s an inanimate object There weren’t any stockings, as you know we’re a shop Selling wines, beers, and spirits, and some glass you can’t drop The retail staff were all snug in their beds (It seems they need sleep, or it goes to their heads) When out on the street there arose such a clatter So I turned up the TV since it didn’t matter Reluctantly, though, I went to the window In case there were burglars and I could play hero The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Was just climate change, since ‘tis summer, you know When what to my wandering eye should appear (I tried the optician, but she was too dear)
A delivery truck with a little old driver Who looked like some gnome or line dancing survivor I knew in a moment he was trying to nick A bottle or two, and perhaps cherry-pick More quickly than last time, security came But he whistled and shouted and called them all names ‘You LOSERS, you DRONGOS, you gungy-eyed GAPERS I won’t hang about for your FISTICUFF CAPERS!’ So off down the road in his vehicle he flew With a bag full of booze and some counter snacks too And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The sound of our snipers load up on the hoof A few well-aimed shots and they had him surrounded But he had a jet pack and refused to be grounded And I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight, ‘YOU GUYS ARE SO TRAGIC, JUST GO FLY A KITE!’
That's it for this week's Sunday Sediment. Issue Seventy-Sixth will be winging its way to your inbox next Sunday. Cheers,