Thou naughty child, thou wanton hussy,
Ah, when will I achieve my way?
For me, off coffee lay!
Dear Father, do not be so strict!
For if I may not thrice each day
My little cup of coffee drink,
I'll turn indeed to my distress
Into a dried-up goat for roasting.
Ah! How sweet the coffee's taste is,
Sweeter than a thousand kisses,
Milder than sweet muscatel.
Coffee, coffee, I must have it,
And if someone wants to treat me,
Ah, my cup with coffee fill!