Dr. Bibey, Romance Writer

        I figured I’d get your attention with the title.  O.K. so it ain’t true.  Remember, I’m a fiction writer, and that affords me a liberal inerpretation of life’s events.  In reality, I’m a testosterone poisoned lug like all the other guys I know. 

        But, at least you gotta give me credit for effort.  Take morning coffee for example.  By habit, I am an early riser, and like to get up and read and write before daybreak.  My wife enjoys sleeping in.  I’m in a regular routine of drinking two or three cups of coffee, and then come time for the morning news, I take hers to her while she’s still in bed, and then we catch up with what’s happening in the world.  It is the way we begin the vast majority of our mornings.

        Now, before you get the notion my wife is some kinda prima donna, she ain’t.  I figure she spends ninety percent of her waking hours doing something that helps me, and it is the least I can do.  So, I guess that is my idea of being romantic, as practical and boring as it may be.  Maybe one day I ought to surprise her and bring flowers.

        This tune was e-mailed to me by another doc, and I liked the words, so I’ll dedicate it, and today’s post, to my Marfar.        

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

“Two More Cups of Coffee”

Two more cups of coffee mama

And I’ll be good to go.

Pour up another pot of that mud

In hopes that I might know.

How to find my way on a given day

And go where I need to go.

Two more cups of coffee mama

And I’ll be good to go

VERSE ONE

Cook up the morning coffee dear 

And not the decaff kind.

I don’t care what brand’s on hand  

As long as it satisfies.

For to percolate right  

After playing all night

And clear the cobwebs from my mind.

It seems to me it’ll have to be  

That high test brew of mine.

CHORUS

VERSE TWO

Some folks always ruin the taste

By doctoring it with sugar and cream.

Or add some new fangled flavor they’ve found

Like nothing I’ve ever seen.

Special moments for me can simply be

Poured up from an old tin can.

So make mine stout straight and black  

And as strong as you can stand.

VERSE THREE

I’ve read all the old studies that say

It might be bad for you.

But tend to file the ones away

with findings that are new.

How it keeps you alert   

Clears your mind

Helps circulation too.

So pour up some more java mama    

And I’ll be good as new.

-anonymous

        And by the way, to the writer I would say NEVER call your wife mama.  If I didn’t warn the boy, I’d have to have a new title for today’s post.  (See my old post on “Bluegrass Batchelor Party.”)

Dr. B

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