I'm practically covered with needles and pins,
a teakettle's firmly affixed to my shins,
my ankles are clanking with clippers and keys,
and several spoons are attached to my knees.
The fork on my forehead is making me frown,
the bolts on my shoulders are weighing me down,
a jingle bell's ringing right under my nose,
and tacks add a finishing touch to my toes.
A hook is adhering to each of my ears,
my head is topped off by a mountain of gears,
my waist is encircled by washers and wheels,
and hinges are holding on fast to my heels.
My back is embellished with ladles and chains,
the saw on my stomach's becoming a pain,
my neck is adorned with a stainless-steel pen-
I doubt that I'll swallow a magnet again.