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 & the walls are drippn' And the ghosts are flittin' frae the cold hard ground A pot & kettle on the hob were settled A' hissin' their patter so bileous cruel An awfy matter o' clout & 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 You're a chanty pot And you're a shite for brains But were both here hangin on the same old chains I've 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 & 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 & yourenone too young Fit for to carry but the peels & 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 You're an old piss bucket You're a dented can But we're neither as black as that roasting pan