Hangover

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I am a lover of screw-top wines,
The student vintage, long on quality
But whose demand is reasonable.

You, on the other hand, are vin du pays,
But packaged in a bottle far too grand
For your contents. Your cost's too high,

Too high for the sour, thin grape within,
Too low for the palate, too bitter.
You cheat the unwary imbiber.

True, I have been drunk with you, in love
With the first heady bouquet of you,
Before the astringent aftertaste.

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