music, poetry

the tea song

 

Turn on the tea & let it brew
I like six cups not one or two

Break out the cups & the honey too
And turn on the tea & let it brew

I don’t care that she’s left me
Just so long as the cupboard’s full of tea

My nerves are shaking & my heart is breaking
That’s just because of all the tea I take in

Poor old Buddha turned into stone
That’s why I drink tea alone

Budda made of stone & his eyes are ruby
But his thoughts & dreams are distilled in the tea

I’ll drink my tea & sit & dream
Conjure up the leprechaun to dance upon the steam

I’m drinking my tea & it’s getting late
Thought I heard somebody pass my gate

(I don’t know and I wonder what’s to become of me
Sitting up all night listening to the CBC)

 

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