Classic Poem

You search the vaults of Gaul for doctored wine,
Jars mellowed (save the mark!) in smoky heat,
Across the sea this poison you consign
At vast expense your luckless friends to cheat;
The price of it would buy Falernian sweet,
With this would Setine vineyards be content,
And far from home you work lest you should meet
And have to drink the filthy wine you sent.