The Rind of What I Pluck

I woke up from my slumber, I even wear a cucumber, I heard a timber, What is simmer, I don't have a glitter, I know how to make it better, With enough of sluther, I am not a chatter, My mind is not cluttered, I admired a butler, I am not honoured to be sudder, A sudden beat to my heart, I want to make it last, A friend by the hand, I know there is a land, For me to spend, I don't know what to lend, I need to mend, Is there a way to be kind, I need to grind, The local produce into a hind, In my mind, There is a line, Which makes me a shine, I do have to rhyme, For that, I put on a thyme, I could make it on time, By then, it will be mine.