The Cellar

We're off round old Aunties for dinner,

She's mourning the loss of her fella,

The night It goes well without worry,

Till I'm asked to fetch wine from her cellar.

I opened the door I was sweating, 

The cellar was spooky, and bleak,

I walk down the staircase in terror,

My legs they begin to feel weak.

The gloomy conditions are creepy,

The spiders and cobwebs are huge,

I get to the foot of the staircase, 

I shake like a leaf in my shoes.

Oh why does wine have to live here,

In places reminiscent of hell, 

I pretend I am butch and not worried,

I don't think they ever would tell.

I can't let them think I'm a p***y, 

So I blocked out the fear from my brain,

Till I heard a voice whisper behind me, 

I think "We will try the champagne".