It's true, his sweat tasted like Irish cofee.

With a hint of almond. After a sip, you'll see.

He made a fortune from his perspiration,

and even his death was a java-celebration.

For we threw his body in a huge mean-grinder

and drank the remains as a reminder…

of the life he lived and the things he'd seen.

His heart, when boiled, was pure caffeine.