Vino Griego

Vino Griego is a song that is very popular in the South West of France, just across the border with Spain. It can be sung as a languid lovesong or as anthem in a packed rugby ground. I first heard the song at a festival, a feria, in Dax, in that region of France. It was in a bullring utilised as a concert venue, packed to capacity with 5,000 spectators, all dressed in white with red sashes, holding red bandanas over their heads, singing and swaying along to the massed brass bands. The crowd united as one to sing the song with, in some cases, pastis inspired tears of joy running down their faces.  I’m not sure whether the song is loved for the melody – ideal for the local brass dominated bands - or the sentimental lyrics about a Greek exile connecting with his homeland by means of the wine. The enthusiastic way the audiences sing the song – I think it’s the lyrics. Like the Greek protagonist, everyone has within them a lost village of youth.  And in France, a natural way to feel this connection is with wine or food.

 

I would recommend watching crowds sing it on Youtube – there are many wobbly videos of happy drunken audiences swaying along. Its hard to think of a UK equivalent – the song is inclusive. The ones that come to mind in this country are laden with political or other baggage – think of “Land of Hope and Glory” at the Proms – or “You’ll Never Walk Alone” at Anfield. They are excluding rather than including. I then thought of the song Caledonia – as used for Tennent’s lager advert – when the hero returns from London because he is missing the lager. A far-fetched tale, I always thought. And that reminded me of my cousin. He flew back to Scotland from Australia to be at the death bed of his estranged father. After the funeral, he went for a pint in the “Cri”, his old local. As he stood there, in his familiar spot, surrounded by the drinking buddies of his youth, he took a sip of the ice cold lager and smiled round the room. “You know,” he said, “when I look around and see all the old faces and taste this lager, I think to myself “when you decided to leave this place and these people – it was the smartest thing you ever did!””

It was already late in the cold night of the big city.
I was returning home when suddenly
I saw light in a bar.
I didn't hesitate, it was cold, I went in.
I felt like I was suddenly in another country.
Those people, that music, new to me.
An old man approached me and he spoke to me.

Come drink a toast
with Greek wine from my homeland.
The red wine that will make me remember
a white village of the sea that I left behind.

Come drink a toast
with Greek wine and I'll sing you
old songs that make us dream
about the moment we return home.

They talked to me of the day that they had to leave,
of how fathers, brothers, and girlfriends stayed there
and there's where all their hearts stayed.
Perhaps one day fortune will come to smile on them.
Soon no one will remember they were here
and return to the white village, to home.

Come drink a toast
with Greek wine from my homeland.
The red wine that will make me remember
a white village of the sea that I left behind.

Come drink a toast
with Greek wine and I'll sing you
old songs that make us dream
about the moment we return home.