The Richest Kind

Craving the coffee Mrs. Olson brewed

Mrs. Olson, brew the Folger’s.
It’s the richest kind.
Plus, I’m running out of Star bucks.
That place robs you blind.
At the Bucks the blends are costly.
You could lose your shirt.
And the beans they boast are bitter.
Ground, they taste like dirt.

Lattes, fraps and cappuccinos
seem to be the rage.
But, I miss the simple pleasures
of another age.

Who banned Yuban?
Where’s Hills’ Brothers?
Not at Maxwell’s House!
“Sanka’s not designer decaf!”
snooty housewives grouse.

Perk me up with no-frills coffee
like my grandpa sipped.
I don’t need designer decaf
just to prove I’m hip.

Coffee black! No cream. No sugar.
Just a cup of Joe.
And I think his last name’s Olson.
He’s just great! You know?