O noble cup of velvet brew!
We thank each passing day for you,
If not for you our days would be
sad, and spent in drinking tea!
Thou art the friend of workers free,
who have no time for frippery
like dainty sips from china cups
with buttered scones and silly sops.
It's-drink-and-get-to-work with you,
as should be with the perfect brew.
With sleeves rolled up on muscled arms,
no fop can claim to know your charms.
no pish-tosh posing, pinkies raised
and just for that, the lord be praised!
No “Twist of lemon? Sugar? Two?”
You are a self-respecting brew!
From roasted beans you are conceived,
not fragile, shriveled up old leaves
the difference is for all to see,
there is no robustness in tea!
To Chamomile, the odes they sing,
Lapsang Souchong and Darjeeling,
Earl grey, Assam and what have you,
I'll stick to my caffeine, thank you!
They call it ‘liquid gold‘ sometimes
for ignorance is not a crime
Forgive them! For they know not what,
they miss, reaching for a tea pot.
What philistines they are who say,
that the cup that cheers is full of tea.
Tea, that so insipid broth!
that does not banish venal sloth.
Tea does not bubble busily
but steeps for all eternity,
And when it’s done what do you get?
Flavoured water, lukewarm yet!
The scent of coffee reaches out,
it’s tendrils from the bubbling spout
And wafts through home and hearth to bring
warmth, and make the taste-buds sing
O font of joy! O blessed bean!
O catalyst to dopamine!
No day shall pass when I shall not,
gaze fondly at that bubbling pot.
I pour myself a mug of you,
O coffee, truly wondrous brew!
Tea cannot stand up next to thee,
O steaming mug of black coffee!
*I’m (semi) unemployed. I will write odes to coffee.**
**Or whatever else I jolly well please.