Each weekday morning at 10:15,
I see my favorite vending machine.
It's stands there waitin'
And percolatin'
Just makin' coffee.
The other morning at coffee time,
I sidled over, put in my dime.
I pushed the button
But out came nothin'.
I want my coffee.
One button says "with sugar." One button says "with cream."
Then there's a mystery button. It splashes your suit with steam.
Then at an angle, one cup came down.
I watched it tangle. It made me frown.
I cried in vain there,
But down the drain there,
Went all my coffee.
Machines have downs. Machines have ups.
Next day one dime paid, for eighteen cups.
I just keep drinking.
I stood there thinking,
That's too much coffee.
And that's not all, that seemed so strange.
It also gave me, nine dollars change.
I said that's funny.
That's too much money.
It said "Shut up and drink your coffee or I'll give you more steam."
It can make more than coffee. It makes hot soup and tea.
And if it really likes you, a mixture of all three.
That poor machine, it went berserk.
From coffee nerves and over work.
It's in a lump now,
In the city dump now,
Still makin' coffee.
Makin' coffee. Makin' coffee. Makin' coffee.
Makin' coffee. Makin' coffee. Makin' coffee.
Return to "My Son, The Box" -- The Allan Sherman CD Box Set
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