You don’t want one of these for lunch, it’s only made with one hand. Swift and with brute force. It’s not actually edible, unless you’re a cannibal.

Fill me up, get me hot, and you might make me sing. Get your head out of the gutter, this isn’t a fling. I’m a vessel of metal, not meant for the seas. I’ll be in the kitchen, now go fetch us some teas.

A curious debate of which one came first. Not chicken or egg, this one quenches thirst. My name is a fruit but the fruit is my name. The fruit beat me to it, or so they claim.

I fill your ears with my symphony and though you hate it you clap for me. I take a bow just before your applause. For quenching my thirst, my life is yours. If you’re lucky. What am I?

My job sounds like I work on the bodies of cars, But I really fill holes created by Mars And make what you could call the headwear of czars. A visit to me can make you see stars