An urban parable built around the famous saying 'pot calling the kettle black'
One smoky day in a darkened scullery
Doon by the river in a factory town
Where bad things happen and the walls are drippn'
And the ghosts are flittin' frae the cold hard ground
A pot and kettle on the hob were settled
A' hissin' their patter so bileous cruel
An awfy matter o' clout and claterin'
Battlin' wits in a hideous duel
Lids a rattlin' belchin steam
Life aint nothin but a fevered dream
'Youre a lowly villain'
'Youre a terrible liar'
'But were both here cookin on the same old fire'
Guts a bubblin belchin steam
Life aint nothin but a fevered dream
'Youre a chanty pot'
'And youre a shite for brains'
'But were both here hangin on the same old chains'
Ive roasted a wealth of exotic things
All torn to ribbons at the hands of kings
Polished copper how I proudly shone
Stealin the fire of the blazing sun
Ye've boilt nae mair'n 'em old soup bones
Ive boilt the tea for them stately homes
I were rattled like a drum each Hogmanay
Then scrubbed tae the devil on the follwin' day
O kettle yer metal is a terrible hue
Riddled wi' holes cannae hold yer brew
Yer lids all crooked and yer sides bashed in
It'll no be long afore ye see the bin
Pot your not so bright as me
A hags old cauldron is all you'd be
You reek o' gruel and yourenone too young
Fit for to carry but the peels and dung
Lids a rattlin' belchin steam
Life aint nothin but a fevered dream
'Youre a lowly villain'
'Youre a terrible liar'
'But were both here cookin on the same old fire'
Guts a bubblin belchin steam
Life aint nothin but a fevered dream
'Youre an old piss bucket'
'Youre a dented can'
'But we're neither as black as that roasting pan'