Every morning when I am making tea,
I wish most fervently,
To become an electric KETTLE.

It most certainly won't  matter to me,
I'll accept it most gracefully,
Be I of ceramic or METAL.

For one moment I'm dancing with glee,
The next sobbing most piteously,
These wretched hormones don't SETTLE.

Once I whistled so daintily,
Now I  breathe so monstrously,
No longer a rose PETAL.

I may boil, then boil most furiously,
Then click off automatically,
Before I sting like NETTLE.

Splutter, bubble, gurgling I be,
Then cool and calm..so peacefully ,
There I ..in fine FETTLE!