text: Sometimes when the evenings young
  The wind dies down, the setting sun
  Crochets the clouds with yarn so fine
  And fills the oceans with red wine
  The trees, the sky, the forest fair
  Bring a flavor to the air
  I raise my glass and in a while
  You answer with a secret smile
  Hold on, hold on to me
  An airborne leaf that landed near
  Has carried Dionysus here
  Hell slip away but only when
  He sees our glasses filled again