Gi Coffee Poem by Philip Lore

You call it coffee,
We call it Joe,
It looks like motor oil,
But it keeps us on the go.

We always drink it black, thought that you should know,
Its such a simple treat, to sip a cup of Joe.
No sugar, got no milk, haven't got heavy cream,
Just hot, rich Army Joe,
Ummmm, sniff its rising steam.

Rising up early, from a bed of sand,
Blackened canteen cups, held tight in our hand.
First Sergeant screams....
Is it ready? Is it hot?
Pipping hot Joe, from our beat up coffee pot.

Dedicated to my roomie, SSG Ford, Boy, does he love coffee!