Who is Earl, and why is he grey? And why does he turn London into a foggy day? Why does he roll with that islander lot? Why does he smell of bergamot? Who is Jasmine, and why is she green? Does she blossom just to make a scene? Is she from Okinawa or Fujian? Is she mortal, or a goddess of heaven? Who is Pepper and where does she mint? Was she a goldsmith banker for a short stint? Why does she now grow leaves that are cold as ice? And why do they taste so very nice? By all these words you must think I mean That all these leaves are what make me serene But to you, I must come clean I always tend to favor my tropical queen Her throne at risk by this warming Earth, we glean I don't know how long she'll keep filling me with dopamine But for now, she's here, giving me a sunny sheen Of course, I am talking about the little brown coffee bean
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