"All the times that I strayed, all the errors I made,
While I wondered which way I should go,
Of those toilsome travails I forget the details,
But the wine was a fine Merlot.

"And my deeds on that date when, sad to relate,
I succumbed to unworthy desire,
As you well might expect, I cannot recollect,
But the wine was a fine Pinot Noir.

"How I'd hunt high and low for that special Bordeaux;
I'd pursue every new Beaujolais;
And I'd spend money, Lord, I could then ill afford
When the wine was a fine Chardonnay.

"So I humbly report all my sins to this court
And I pray for Your pardon divine;
As You add up my score, I can ask nothing more
Than to help turn the water to wine."