Tea

Tea, a brew, a beverage, a cuppa

Perfect with breakfast, with lunch, and with supper

So, much more in that cup than an infusion of leaves?

The very identity in which us British believe

Symbolic of colonisation and power

Of conquest, of conquer, the whole world devoured

Each sip through the lips, rings the tongue like a bell

The familiar taste that we all know so well

Without tea, I ask, just who would we be?

In Russia its vodka, the Italians, mocha
In France it’s champagne, in Canada syrup

Ireland it’s Guinness drunken straight from the bola

In America cola, in Australia lager
I could go on, for the list goes much farther

My point, it is simple: the key’s in the cup

For energy, diversion, relief or immersion

One cup solves it all, every problem, makes small.

It is lucidly obvious the writer of such a fine verse loves tea.