Down in the Troldrums

I trundled cloddish as a Troll
That floundered over hill and vale,
When all at once I saw a knoll
and on that bump there stood a pail.
Over there yonder by itself
Not even balanced on a shelf.
.
As I approached the lonesome bucket
It rattled in a mournful tone,
But having feet my size, oh fuck it
I dislodged a rock with my toe bone.
Down it clattered, clanged and crashed
And all within it splished and splashed.
.
I groaned frustrated, fraught and clumsy
At what I'd done with my big feet
And blamed ancestors (Pa and Mumsy)
I never would be lithe and fleet.
Away it sped to distant parts,
Careering, splishing, squelch and farts.
.
Now I wander lack of lustre
Far and wide I seek my goal.
Investigating with my duster
Cleaning messes from each bowl.
Still I've never found my vessel
Not on knoll, or hill, or trestle.