I get such a good feeling when the fire goes out <br />because there's no more smoke going up my spout. <br />Its no wonder I am an sick and tired of my job <br />because all day long I am boiling on this hob. <br />On special days I get polished with blacking <br />but that's only to stop my body from cracking. <br />When the old man comes home and its time <br />for tea, that is when I start to feel free. <br />I am free from water that has been bubbling in <br />my guts giving me much pain and driving me nuts. <br />The freedom never lasts for more than an hour <br />because on goes the tap and another shower. <br />Filled to the brim then back to the hob just doing <br />the same old job, boilng over again and again why <br />cant they see it is causing me pain. <br />They have gone to bed and the fire is out, then down <br />comes the soot and chokes my spout. <br />Soot and water what a combination, but when morning <br />comes they won't have any inclination; because I am <br />boiled again just as the day before to make tea for the <br />master who drinks cups of it by the score. <br />I know I have a job for life and that could be a good thing <br />perhaps that's the reason why most kettle's sing.<br /><br />sylvia spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-job-for-life/
