You might recognise me as a chip brand, Or a type of drum you'll hear in a band, When a stove is lit under me, I can shriek and shout Or what the pot was hypocritical about

I make important things stand out, on your face or in your notes.

You can lean on me, Stand to write with a snap! I hold sheets together. Old rib cap.

In towers tall, I proudly sing, Marking time with every ring. On joyous moment, or call to wake, My metal voice will emanate.

Dinner in tails? A snappy cocktail, on ice? Small fry? When you want the best, it can pay to shell out.