A cup of tea (with apathy)
Means all the world to little me:
It pains to see an employee
Devour a cup voraciously.
So all along the lolling aisles
I’m urning for my keep:
My sweetest joy the happy smiles
Of employees asleep.
A plate of petits fours, éclairs
And soggy ginger crackers
Will satisfy the hunger cares
Of vulgar morning snackers.
Though some may praise Darjeeling
Raise Assam to their lips,
I far prefer the feeling
Of lukewarm PG Tips.
And Chinese tea is far too weak
Gunpowder far too strong
Lapsang Soochong hard to spell
And who knows where Ceylon?
So take your tea-bags, or your leaves
And mash them in the pot:
With sugar or with milk or laced,
Tea always hits the spot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the irrestible cuppa paid tribute in a classy way. great write Chris.