At the Ropemaler, glasses gleam— Forty fine years of Port and Cream. Through changing seasons, friendship stays, The richest vintage time can raise. Though Julian and Janiece can’t be here, We toast them both and hold them dear; With Jane and Martin in their place, New laughter lends the night its grace. So lift a glass to years well spent, To every meal and merriment— For gold is not what makes us glow, But friends we’ve had the joy to know.