And there's me pot that I biled mornin' an' evenin' these years an' years!" "Och, musha, lave the pot," retorted Pat; "sure what good is the pot to us when we haven't a bit to put in it?

The coffin is the oven, and the flower-pot is the stove.

Through thee the earthen pot is an enamelled urn, The clout hung out to dry a noble banner, The hay-rick by thy favour boasts a golden cape, And the rick's little sister, the thatched hive, Wears, by thy grace, a hood of gold!

When de cabbage pot is steamin' An' de bacon good an' fat, When de chittlin's is a-sputter'n' So's to show yo' whah dey's at; Take away you sody biscuit, Take away yo' cake an' pie.

Now the water-pot is the shrine, the very home of Jarimari and the thirty-eight cholera mothers.

If the pot is clean, the juice, when it is taken down in the morning, not fermented yet but just beginning to sparkle with minute bubbles, not too sweet and not so oily as the milk of the coconut, is nectar to a hot and thirsty soul.

When de cabbage pot is steamin' An' de bacon good an' fat, When de chittlin's is a-sputter'n' So's to show yo' whah dey's at; Take away you sody biscuit, Take away yo' cake an' pie.

At the far end of the room was a great generaldrinking croûte-au-pot with the simple appetite of a French poiluwho would have been a splendid mark for anyone careless of his own life and upholding the law of frightfulness as a divine sanction for assassination.

The pot was a percolator, and beside it I placed a frying-pan, and in it sliced bananas and a lump of tinned butter from New Zealand.

She happened to tell him that a little coffee-pot, in which she had made his coffee, was the only thing she could call her own.

Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the proverb still holds true.

A bright kitchen-parlour, warm with the health of six workmen, grouped round a game of dominoes, and one huge quart pot of ale, used among them as woman in the early world, was a grateful inglenook, indeed, wherein to close the day.

Instead of an oven, fireplace or cooking stove, a rude hole is dug in the ground and a fire made therein, and the coffee pot, the camp kettle and the skillet are his only culinary articles used.

The coffee-pot was really an old Whieldon teapot in broad cauliflower design.

The coffee pot was a monster, holding all of two gallons, and this the ranchman directed Tom to fill before allowing the ponies to satisfy their thirst.

The pots should be two-thirds filled with crocks, then filled up with fibrous peat and sphagnum moss.