In the kitchen, it stands with grace, A gleaming pot o' gold in its place. Water does flow, Down it must go, 'Neath a rainbow's bridge in haste.

People have me over, But dogs have me under. Walls wear me, As do many vehicles.

It grows in a bunch, Can be purple, red, or green for your lunch. Smush it and wait And sip something great.

Beside the hearth where embers gleam, In rising curls of scented steam, I settle in and softly stay, keeping cold and chill at bay.

I'm rounded at the bottom and you might use me to serve lunch. Wood, metal, or plastic, I make the perfect cradle. Use me to transport soups, gravy, sauce or punch, What am I? Well, I'm a long-handled ....