Eric Stanislavski wondered why, so foolishly,
His compatriots were putting a 'y' for an 'i'.
Imagine, "Stanislav Sky!"
He gallantly left it as an 'i' on the customs form
He filled out when he landed on Ellis Island
But he cleverly changed 'Erik' to 'Eric'.
From Ellis Island he transfered to Brooklyn
Because he had heard about the Dodgers
Being the best baseball team, in New York,
The greatest town in all of the United States.
There he set up a Coffee Shop
Selling ground coffee, cake and espresso.
He did well out of journalists and artists
Pining for the Parisian Café Society
Discussing philosophy, music, books and acting
As if tomorrow will never come too soon,
Late into the night without a whiff of wine,
Just coffee, cigarettes and wild women.
The journalists never wrote about the Coffee Shop,
The artists never painted it.
The foreigners thought nothing of it and yet
Eric had no reason to complain about the business.
The pastry was always fresh and abundant
And the aroma of coffee was to the American taste.
He knew something was up when Faye started
Turning up wearing eye makeup, repeatedly
But the ones for whom she waited, never came.
Then he began to wonder whether it wasn't for him!
"Good morning, Faye. You are looking gorgeous!"
Thus with the ice broken, matters unfolded rapidly.
