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