In a little Scotch kitchen, with rafters above,
And the wide open fireplace that grandmothers love,
The kettle was making a terrible din.
Would you guess that a giant was prisoned within?
No one knew what he said; no one heeded the noise;
People don’t when they live in a house full of boys.
And, with grandma asleep and James on the settle,
Small wonder they heard not the voice in the kettle.
“I’m a giant imprisoned!” the cry came again,
“I have strength for the work of a million of men;
Your ships I will carry, your carriages draw.”
Jamie looked in surprise, but no giant he saw.
“I can print all your books, and your cloth I could weave;
Your grain I will grind, if you’ll but give me leave;
Great weights I can lift, as you quickly will see;
Only give me more room. Come, my lad, set me free.”
Just then grandma awoke, and she cried, “Lazy thing.
Have you nothing to do but to hear teakettles sing?”
But he answered her gently and told her his plan—
More room for the giant to do all he can.
Just a dream? No, indeed! You will own it was not
When I tell you the name of the lad was James Watt.
’Twas the giant who is working for you and for me;
Aren’t you glad that he listened, and then set him free?
