Sir Jamie with his tired and timid hands,
Squeezed the red grapes to dry strands.
A robust man making delectable Bordeaux wine,
Doesn't matter if they consider him a swine.

He glanced at the aged wine barrels,
Wine, true colours do they unravel.
Filling the juice to the brink,
To fill the real pigs drink.

Rhyme Scheme: aabb