not true but it rhymes

I want a bright copper kettle that whistles
And a garden ravaged with thistles
A roof made of straw
Giant rug on the floor
And a dog with one ear

I want a hand-built run full of chickens
A shelf full of Shakespeare and Dickens
I'll lie on the floor
For hours or more
Pretending to read

I want to gather fresh milk ev'ry morn'
For my first cup o'tea, crack o'dawn
No neighbours for miles
No need for forced smiles
I might make my own cheese

I want to breathe some actual fresh air
Walk around with no outerwear
In my personal zone
I'll be all on my own
With my whistling kettle