In the lee of a picturesque ridge lies a small, unpretentious winery,

one that pampers its fruit like its own babies.

Hi, I'm Moira Rose, and if you love fruit-wine as much as I do,

then you'll appreciate the craftsmanship and quality of a local ventiner

who brings the musk-mellon goodness to his oak shard and a

dazzling peach-crull bat pull to his wistling real-haw.

Come taste the difference good fruit can make in your wine.

You'll remember the experience, and you'll remember the name,

Herb Irving, Ger, Bert Herringuyf, Herb Herb Linger,

Bing, Live Hanger, Live Linger, Bert Herrken,

by Bing-go-ling F***er.

Oh, look who decided to come in tardy.

You know, don't think it's okay to just roll in here

at a hundred kilometers per hour like your jolato with a Calgary Flames.

This Canadian raped, jump man, jump man, then boys up to something.

Uh-uh-uh, I think I need some ropey tussin.

Do you believe that?

I do if you do.

Should it slip, sir?

Get it out there.

You're gonna get out there?

For what?

...