Tasting History - Al Stewart

Stephanie’s father came her from Alsace

He bought a big Victorian house

Filled with coloured glass

He kept his old wine bottles

In a cellar down below

On Friday night he takes them out

And stands them in a row

And all that he said

All of us there were tasting history

Those perfume-laden liquids

Whatever they might be

He dispensed then like a chemist

From the sixteenth century

Then leaned back in his armchair

With understated glee

While we tripped over our tongues

To trace their ancestry

And all that he said

All of us there were tasting history

And all through the night

In glass filtered light, tasting history

Stephanie went to Egypt

To an excavation site

And works beneath the Pharaoh’s moon

Deep into the night

Her dad still opens Chambertin

As the candle burns away

It was the favorite of Napoleon

That’s what he liked to say

And all that he said

All of us there were tasting history

And all through the night

In glass filtered light, tasting history