She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice
He was base, he was bad, he was mean
He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps,
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat,
The wine, his cigar and the lamps:

Have some madeira, m'dear You really have nothing to fear
I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right,
You shouldn't drink spirits at this time of night
Have some madeira, m'dear It's really much nicer than beer
I don't care for sherry, one cannot drink stout,
And port is a wine I can well do without
It's simply a case of chacun a son gout
Have some madeira, m'dear

Unaware of the wiles of the snake-in-the-grass
And the fate of the maiden who topes,
She lowered her standards by raising her glass,
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did!
He promptly refilled it again,
And he said as he secretly carved one more notch
On the butt of his gold-headed cane:

Have some madeira, m'dear,
I've got a small cask of it here
And once it's been opened, you know it won't keep
Do finish it up It will help you to sleep
Have some madeira, m'dear
It's really an excellent year
Now if it were gin, you'd be wrong to say yes
The evil gin does would be hard to assess
Besides it's inclined to affect me prowess,
Have some madeira, m'dear

Then there flashed through her mind what her mother had said
With her antepenultimate breath,
"Oh my child, should you look on the wine that is red
Be prepared for a fate worse than death!"
She let go her glass with a shrill little cry,
Crash! Tinkle! it fell to the floor;
When he asked, "What in Heaven?" She made no reply,
Up her mind, and a dash for the door

Have some madeira, m'dear
Rang out down the hall loud and clear
With a tremulous cry that was filled with despair,
As she fought to take breath in the cool midnight air,
Have some madeira, m'dear
The words seemed to ring in her ear
Until the next morning, she woke in her bed
With a smile on her lips and an ache in her head
And a beard in her lug 'ole that tickled and said:
Have some madeira, m'dear!