(Or Shootout At The Coffee Corral
Or Java 'Till You Drop
Or Brewing In The Wild, Wild West)
Coffee Grounds rode into town
feeling all used up.
He’d been hot, he’d been cold,
but he never was enough.
His steadfast stallion, Maxwell House
was good ‘till his last drop,
but had he known he’d meet his end
he’d not climbed that mountain top.
Little Fannie Folgers
had a room above the saloon,
and for little more than a cowpoke’s pay
she’d help you change your tune.
Coffee Grounds, he met her there,
got freshened, then got topped
‘till the Farmer Brothers, they walked in
yelling, “Get out of our coffee crop!”
Coffee Grounds fell to the floor,
came up his guns a blazin’,
fired two shots into their pots,
folks said it was amazing!
So off he ran, a coffee can,
the Sheriff, trails his drip
while he percolates the great debates,
decaf, cream, or mint?
Like everything else this will someday end, hopefully remaining good ‘til the last drop. By the way, whose idea was it to put that white crap on the top of my coffee?
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