From the recording The Book Of Zephaniah
Lyrics
Late harvest wine, oh late harvest wine
The sweetest of fruits always hangs on the vine
So love takes it's place at the back of the line
Singing save me for later, I'm your late harvest wine
The streams in the springtime, they tasted so fine
In the aching hot summer, we barely got by
And I've grown so thirsty now my cup has run dry
And all I can dream of is late harvest wine
But oh, how long must I wait?
It's bringing me sorrow with every new day
And oh, how long must I pine?
For a taste of the grapes of our late harvest wine
It sits on a shelf with the sun in the sky
It's buried beneath us where darkened hearts lie
It's ringing a bell and it's counting the time
But it ain't the time yet, for our late harvest wine
Late harvest wine, oh late harvest wine
The sweetest of fruits always hangs on the vine
So love takes it's place at the back of the line
Singing save me for later, I'm your late harvest wine
The streams in the springtime, they tasted so fine
In the aching hot summer, we barely got by
And I've grown so thirsty now my cup has run dry
And all I can dream of is late harvest wine