Cafes are nowadays the meeting place of the masses,
Where many different coffees arrive in tall glasses.
Cakes perspire profusely in a well-lit glass cabinet,
Served by someone who is largely inanimate.

Well known coffee house chains are abundant,
Making lots of independent cafes redundant.
With loyalty cards that are stamped or holed,
It’s a sad and sorry state of affairs all told.

Forgotten are the blue gingham table cloths,
With stains of tomato sauce and coffee froths.
And white traditional straight-sided tea mugs,
You could grasp in your hands for warm hugs.

The jukebox would be accepting of a Bob,
To play a favourite song from a heartthrob.
Maybe Elvis with Can’t Help Falling in Love,
Or Ferlin Husky performing Wings of a Dove.

These days corporate adverts are endlessly streamed.
And they ask if you want Soya milk, Oat or steamed.
We have Costa, Pret A Manger, Starbucks and Café Nero.
How I’d love a simple coffee just listening to Helen Shapiro.