"MY POOR GRANDMOTHER HAD IT My poor grandmother had it / a vineyard near the Capuchin Fathers; / the guardian blessed it: / his friars drank half the wine. / My grandmother, as she died, told me: / I leave you this vineyard, my little Francis; / if the guardian wants to drink, let him drink: / little bird draws the little pig home. / When suddenly Napoleon / suppressed the friaries. / His slave, about wine, the protection. / I thought I wouldn't even have a sip: / instead, now I have filled all the vessels, / instead, I have drunk even what I gave to the friars. / And yet in these past years / I would have bet my head that without them / neither we nor our Lord would be excused!"
Created by d'Araprì