Flitting like a faerie thing
Kick up a cloud like a feather duster
Which makes your very nostrils sting
Look right there, she left a star
Silver plated mirror lustre
To guide you home from where you are
That and a wish is all you'll need
Leaving caffeine-filled delight inside their coffee cans at night.
As she turns her coffee mill, a spell from out her mouth doth spill;
one so brief, not overlong, which she interpolates in song:
"Aromatic, bister philter; percolated panacea.
Breakfast bev'rage, brain re-kilter; paregoric Sandman slayer.
Gourmet, cafe, diner drip-pot; au lait, latte, sav'ry soma.
Black espresso demitasse shot, wake them from their nightly coma!"
Helping pickers sort their yield, flitting through arabica fields.
Shucking cherries for their seed, grinding roast caches with great speed.
With her faithful donkey, Jota, never spilling one iota.
Stocking pantires 'cross the land, with her magical mill in hand.