Coffee in England is just toasted milk.
quote by Christopher Fry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Bad Day
burnt toasted
bread
beside a
moldy
marmalade
bland coffee
and bad news
on tv
welcome
a world in recession.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Coffee Break
I drink milky coffee
cos' I don't like it black.
It ain't because I'm weird
or stuff or anything like that.
I just like milky coffee
but when I asked for it
no one understood me
although I gasped for it.
I went into this burger bar
and asked the guy to make one.
He looked at me quite vacant
and asked me to explain one.
I said you tip some coffee out
and put a dropp more milk in,
but he just stood there gapin'
and said he couldn't do it!
I really hate hot coffee
and I ain't gonna lie
I'd rather eat asbestos
than let my poor tongue fry.
So now I'm drinkin' fruit juice,
to make like I'm discernin'.
They serve it at posh restaurants.
It stops my stomach churnin'.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Government Owned!
she bought a bag
of cheap coffee,
a quart of milk,
and a box of pads...
bundled up in her Goodwill coat,
walked back across the parking lot,
and up the street with
tears in her eyes.
she knew the baby was crying,
and her old man sitting
there staring blankly
out the window at the world...
wondering where in the hell
he could scuff a few bucks.
just coffee and milk, and
trying to heat the apartment
with the kitchen stove...
too young to have lived,
to live on the memories
of a childhood long gone!
two more weeks till her check,
and nothing in her pockets.
the food stamps long gone,
and nothing on her table!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sour Milk-cow Blues
You like coffee and you like tea
Much more than you like me
And everybody says watch out yeah
For the sour milk-cow blues
You like your coffee just a little too sweet
Without your sugar life is incomplete
And everybody says watch out yeah
For the sour milk-cow blues
I think about you everyday
Something about you is not the same
Something about the things you say
Sounds like a different woman with a different name
Sour milk-cow blues
You wear a different size and style of shoe
I think that someone must be poisoning you
To replace you with a living double
Get out of my life right now and save them all of the trouble
They changed your complexion and your personality
Somebodys putting ideas in your head
They took the girl of my dreams and left you here instead
Sour milk-cow blues
You take your place in this parade of pleas
You dial a number and they offer relief
All alone with just your own device
They give you something and it isnt advice
To break the hearts of a million listeners
Start out as lovers and you end up as prisoners
Somebodys suffering from the things that you do
Somebodys suffering but youre glad it isnt you
Put your fingertips up to the screen
Repeat after me, wake at the count of three
Now I dont know which is worse
What theyre doing to you or what youre doing to me
Sour milk-cow blues
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
you and I, and the cat
we shared a cup of coffee- you and I,
as the cat looked on.
you had two lumps of sugar, a shot of cream.
mine was black.
I thought to offer cream to the cat; he’d like that.
and then you smiled.
you peered across the rim of your upraised cup, taking a sip,
scrunching your face and smiling through the steam as it
rose from your milky, sweet coffee,
and I forgot about the cat.
he purred.
quickly, I put him outside,
knowing his familiar purr, a purr that soon
would escalate into a full-blown howl
that demanded my attention and some cream.
I wanted only to savor the contented sweetness of your face,
perfectly formed for my delight, but
you felt sorry for the cat.
I had been abrupt, insensitive.
“Why can’t the cat be allowed to purr, even to howl
“if he wants? ' you said.
“Why must the cat be refused a simple request for attention
“and a sip of milk? ”
alright then, I’ll let the cat back inside,
and give him some milk.
are you happy now?
no answer.
the coffee has grown tepid,
along with your smile.
I loathe that cat.
Sleep At Last
I never knew it will hurt you so much but,
Try to love me for what i am always;
Because i am the only one who wants to make you sleep at last.
Life is like the gallons of water on moveable carts,
And with the figures of bulls encircled on them;
For your love flows with the sweet milk from your valley,
So i will not put any milk into my coffee tonight.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm Leaving You
I'm leaving you, woman
Before i commit a crime
I'm leaving you, woman
Before i commit a crime
You tried so hard to kill me
But baby, it was not my time
You put poison in my coffee
Instead of milk or cream
You put poison in my coffee
Instead of milk or cream
You're the evilest woman
I think i've ever seen
You mix my drink
With a can of red devil lye
You mix my drink
With a can of red devil lye
Then you sit right down
Watch me, hoping i might die
song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ripoff
I don't wanna be no traitor to the cause
But England is a luxury - not many can afford
There's people going under - it's getting out of hand
Whatever happened to our - our green and pleasant land?
It turned into a wilderness; it turned into a third world country
Most people ain't getting what they pay for
Some people gettin' more than they should be
I know, I know - I'm an alien - but what are you gonna do
I wanna live in England - but it gets to you
It gets to you, it gets to you, it gets to you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
What do you do when you find out?
Where do you go if you leave?
There's no place like home - that's what they say
And that's what you always believed
Someday you might win the Lottery
Someday you might win the Pools
But that's all you've got - that's all you've got
- to live for, to live for
That's all you've got - that's all you've got -
to live for, to live for (yeah)
To be or not to be - that's the question
Oh what's it gonna be?
I'd love to live in England - but it gets to me
it gets to me, it gets to me, yeah it gets to me
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
Oh I really don't know why - England wants to rip off
England wants to rip off , England wants to rip o
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hey! Handsome waiter you resemble my younger deceased brother
Please do not call me Sir!
As the honourable Queen
has not granted me that pseudonym yet?
You're one of my brothers and you want to know
What I am going to order today?
When our skinny Mom feeds us
Do we inquire whether it's skim,
Whole or cream?
She gave us her nourishing breast milk
without a measuring cup?
To fight with these mesmerized souls
who wear saintly robes and hiding their devilish surnames!
Brother! Not to keep any regrets for this small coin
As it's not a tip but a keepsake!
And the Election is Tomorrow
Isn't it?
Mom always mutters; 'Without any hesitation
go straight and vote to someone
who could smile from his heart?
Anyway I'll be here tomorrow
with a different order,
A smiley Bullseye with toasted gingerbread
Creamcheese on the side of the plate
and a mug of black bitter coffee
that really gives the taste of Life!
*dedication to US Senate candidate Elizabeth Warren who arrived at a rally at the Harvest Cafe in Hudson Friday afternoon.
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cafe Society
I really love my coffee
Although I like it weak
A skimmed milk cappuccino
As much as twice a week.
I love the buzz of coffee shops
And people watching too
I love café society
And my BMW.
For I live in Woollahra
And when all is said and done
The phrase that best describes me is
Cappuccino ergo sum.
April 2004
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Java Blues
Rick danko
I walked into a diner
And the blonde behind the counter
She asked if she could help in any way
Hell, I knew by her smile
Her number I could dial
If I was in the need of company
But as I bought some java
Instead she brought me a cup of chicory
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
Dont pour me water just fill up my cup
You know it takes a lot just to keep me up
Cost may be more than you care to pay
What good is money compared to fightin pain
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
The taste of java is like a cocaine rush
Nobodys gonna stop me from drinkin too much
Down in bolivia the people are insane
They want as much for coffee as they do for cocaine
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
The coffees got me now..
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
I got the java blues
Oh coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh the coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues!
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Oh England My Lionheart
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Im in your garden, fading fast in your arms.
The soldiers soften, the war is over.
The air raid shelters are blooming clover.
Flapping umbrellas fill the lanes--
My london bridge in rain again.
Oh! england, my lionheart!
Peter pan steals the kids in kensington park.
You read me shakespeare on the rolling thames--
That old river poet that never, ever ends.
Our thumping hearts hold the ravens in,
And keep the tower from tumbling.
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Oh! england, my lionheart,
I dont want to go.
Oh! england, my lionheart!
Dropped from my black spitfire to my funeral barge.
Give me one kiss in apple-blossom.
Give me one wish, and Id be wassailing
In the orchard, my english rose,
Or with my shepherd, wholl bring me home.
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Oh! england, my lionheart,
I dont want to go.
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Oh! england, my lionheart,
Oh! england, my lionheart,
I dont want to go.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee
The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.
poem by Chnar Namq
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Simple Blessing
3 p.m. we sit on a chair
the table has a tray of ripe guavas
four slices of toasted sandwich
two cups of coffee with cream
italian pasta and a nice conversation
lasting for a hour or more
the air from the sea blows and
refreshes our bodies and then
we try your new salad combination:
buco and durian chilled last night.
we gaze upon the passing of 12 years.
nothing changed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
AmericaLion starts Thunder
If slaves wait hundred years
their generation sees prosperity nears
Decoction is black as night
White-milk makes coffee right
Obama-coffee rejuvenates American dream
America! join with main-stream!
Hybrid President will work wonders
America-Lion does start thunder
poem by Elangovan Selvapperumal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You can't take the milk back from the coffee.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard
The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And bees and birds of England
About the cross can roam.
But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.
And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England,
They have no graves as yet.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!