Berton Braley, American Poet, in 1935, celebrates the first cup of coffee in the morning, in the following poem:

I've a stomach made of zinc which will handle food and drink
that would cause an ostrich worry and compunction; 
Breakfast, dinner, tea or lunch -- anything a goat would munch
I can savor and assimilate with unction.

Jellies prettified with dyes, armor-plated cakes and pies
which would knock a buzzard flat without a warning,
I can marrily digest with a gustatory zest
If my coffee's only decent in the morning.

I'm a very cheerful gent with a heart resilient
and a view of life as bright as I can make it,
and if fortune, with a frown, stands me up and slaps me down
I have proven in the past that I can take it.

I can even rise above discombobulated love,
I can stand a lady's sublimated scorning,
but I'm totally inutile and my whole career is futile
if I don't get decent coffee in the morning.

Merrily I roll along without women, wine or song,
I can do without companionship or money;
lacking pictures, books or plays, I can worry through my days
with a disposition moderately sunny.

I'm the captain of my soul, independent -- on the whole --
but my freedom and my courage die a-borning
and I wander in a coma if I miss the fresh aroma
of a fragrant cup of coffee in the morning!"

      ___  Berton Braley c. 1935

                                        Beatha's Song

Beatha, I see your liver-spotted wrinkled hand
come down SMACK! on the table,
as the loose flesh hanging 
from the back of your bony arm
swings and giggles when you pronounce to us:
"I like my coffee HOT! --  
-- I want to feel it burning all the way down!"

We heard that, Beatha.
We did, for certain.

~~  2003 by djl