Stephanie's father came her from Alsace 
He bought a big Victorian house 
Filled with colored glass 
He kept his old wine bottles 
In a cellar down below 
On Friday night he takes them out 
And stands them in a row 
And all that he said 
All of us there were tasting history 
Those perfume-laden liquids 
Whatever they might be 
He dispensed then like a chemist 
From the sixteenth century 
Then leaned back in his armchair 
With understated glee 
While we tripped over our tongues 
To trace their ancestry 
And all that he said 
All of us there were tasting history 
And all through the night 
In glass filtered light, tasting history 
Stephanie went to Egypt 
To an excavation site 
And works beneath the Pharaoh's moon 
Deep into the night 
Her dad still opens Chambertin 
As the candle burns away 
It was the favorite of Napoleon 
That's what he liked to say 
And all that he said 
All of us there were tasting history 
And all through the night 
In glass filtered light, tasting history