[ WP ] Unbeknownst to you , the `` footrest '' that you 've been using in your backyard while you smoke is a lost relic .

This brassy pot before me wears 
 A grubby sort of mien, 
 And its time eroded body bears 
 A gammy little lean. 
 
 But for jacking up my trainers while 
 I make a cherry glow, 
 Well my pot - it makes me smile; 
 It is ever-good-to-go! 
 
 And my feet, when placed upon it play 
 A tiny tinny *ting*, 
 As the chemicals propel me to 
 Nostalgia's pretty wing: 
 
 And from there I see the ornament 
 With king, or wicked tsar; 
 Or as first prize in a tournament 
 For knights come from afar. 
 
 And it sparkles full of mystery - 
 So valuable and rare - 
 That my mind creates a history, 
 Imagined from my chair. 
 

