A frenchman in London percolating coffee
It was his life’s work, his philosophy
He dreamt of the French way of life
With its scents and genuine brews
Coffee in a british shop was giving him the blues
He was missing the slow drips, for a result that could not wait
The brewing gurgle of the machine ready to percolate
One day he packed his bags, France he wanted to see
He had enough of London fog and the smell of stewing tea

FOWC with Fandago: Percolate