When in the U.K., good coffee is hard to come by. Here is the first iteration of my Ode to Coffee inspired by our travels thus far.
Ode to Coffee
O, Coffee, how we love you And were sad to see you treated so On the isle of Great Britain Reduced to brownish sludge And disgracefully watered down By the ‘espresso’ machine in Lenton Hall.
We rose early to march to Starbucks Dedicated to finding an iteration tolerable To our tastes, to your grace In order to preserve our energy Through lectures on boundary clauses And to aid in enduring the misery of GIS.
We stopped to smell your glory At every proper coffee shop And melted with delight at P&P, You there revived us after a night out. A hug in a cup, a liquid of strength, You’ve kept us going despite fatigue.
To have tasted many a failed brew In this great place we call England It was comforting to find mediocrity In a small hotel in Montgomery, Wales And in earnest, we each drank three The coffee was still bland and weak.
Alas, we found good coffee in a small town, A town called Clun, with a single pub And a fancy coffee machine and barista. We drank a large cup of that strong, reviving juice Blissfully engaged in appreciating your flavor, Waiting patiently for the caffeine to hit, o Coffee.
Beware of crappy coffee in the U.K. And always treasure a proper brew, And beware your bladder, too, but Coffee, o Coffee, we really do love you.