Mom’s old bean pot

Is now the queen of all the pots I’ve got–

Who knows from where it came

Or how it gained such fame

As the be-all and end-all

Of the best baked beans we all

Have loved and eaten for years and years–

‘Though the onion at the bottom of the pot gave us tears,

While the caramelized bacon on top gave us delight

With that first bean-y bite—

How I revere that old brown-and-cream pot

From whose humble belly we helped ourselves— a lot!

I do believe that there’s magic within,

(Probably gifted from some old bean jinn)

That keeps that old pot

Producing great beans, fresh and hot–

As tasty and good as ever there was,

I’ve puzzled and puzzled til I broke my puz

On the tasty magic Mom’s old bean pot’s got–

But suffice it to say, those beans hit the spot!

Though the vessel itself is quite spotty and humble,

But about its looks we cannot grumble

That magic lives on in that pot, it’s all true—

Just as clear and as right as I’ve told it to you.