A rousing combination to set my heart aflutter.
I could gaze into your knobs for hours,
Whilst applying heaps of butter.
I could run my fingers down your smooth, plastic-coated cord
And gently caress the plug at the end.
They say that you shouldn't get electrical equipment wet.
Those rules weren't meant for you, my friend.
But it's not just your exterior that I love,
Or your insides all metal and barred,
Or the way that you're always there for me,
Ready to make my bread get hard.
There's also that element of danger;
That giddy little thrill whenever I heat up grain.
Get too close and I could burn my fingers,
Or my tongue.