The Hymn for the Coffee (Rough Trade Shop, London, 1998)

Bless the coffee that passes between her lips

'Cause the caffeine gives the woman a nervous twitch

When she crossed those big wide thighs

What I saw could hardly have been intended

And her skirted suit, it implies to me

She should not chastise so callously

As the woman who shared my bed

And wiped my brow for the past three years

And my true love won't drink coffee like her

Won't wear lipstick like her

My true love, she is cursed

And my true love won't wear lipstick like her

Not got those sassy curves

My true love, she is cursed

Oh, but morning coffee does the trick

Oh, pink lips by night makes the day more worth it

'Cause the devil in me and the deep blue sea

They're entwined as one since that girl went deadbeat

And my true love won't drink coffee like her

Won't wear lipstick like her

My true love, she is cursed

And my true love won't swing her hips like her

Not got those sassy curves

My true love, she is cursed

And my true love won't swing her hips like her

Not got those sassy curves

My true love, she is cursed

And my true love won't drink coffee like her

Won't wear lipstick like her

My true love, she is cursed