I must across the road to Finca again, as the time for a coffee draws nigh, And all I ask is a cup of the best, and some bars from next door's wi-fi, And the caffeine's kick and the CD's song and the white cup's shaking, And a warm smile on the Don's face and a Ricchiato making.
I must cross the road to Finca again, for the call of the other side Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; All I ask is a double shot with the white froth lying, And the choc'late spray and the silver spoon, and my taste buds sighing.
I must cross the road to Finca again, to the fragrant coffee life, To the Don's way and the Marti's way where the wit's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And some cake or some toast to go with the roast, and cold water to drink when it's over.