Kettle Woe Poem by Ima Ryma

I am a kettle made to be
Holding water to be boiled for
The humans so to have their tea,
And they do drink that tea galore.
Upon an old coal stove I sit,
Enduring lots of wear and tear,
All those times my bottom be lit.
Of course the old stove does not care.
Shiny silver hued I once was,
But now with heat and smoke and stuff.
I'm looking the worse for wear cuz
I'm burning in hell, life is tough.

Day after day the coals attack,
This kettle's turning sooty black.