| (The Intimate Ella) | |
| I'm feeling mighty lonesome | |
| Haven't slept a wink | |
| I walk the floor and watch the door | |
| And in between I drink | |
| Black Coffee | |
| Love's a hand me down brew | |
| I'll never know a Sunday | |
| In this weekday room | |
| I'm talking to the shadows | |
| 1 o'clock to 4 | |
| And Lord, how slow the moments go | |
| When all I do is pour | |
| Black Coffee | |
| Since the blues caught my eye | |
| I'm hanging out on Monday | |
| My Sunday dream's too dry | |
| Now a man is born to go a lovin' | |
| A woman's born to weep and fret | |
| To stay at home and tend her oven | |
| And drown her past regrets | |
| In coffee and cigarettes | |
| I'm moody all the morning | |
| Mourning all the night | |
| And in between it's nicotine | |
| And not much hard to fight | |
| Black Coffee | |
| Feelin' low as the ground | |
| It's driving me crazy just waiting for my baby | |
| To maybe come around | |
| My nerves have gone to pieces | |
| My hair is turning gray | |
| All I do is drink black coffee | |
| Since my man's gone away |
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