The Story of a Pot

I am a little pot With many tiny spots People love me a lot I feel always hot. Once i was clayey mud I lived under stony bed People thought me as bad I had felt very sad. But on one pretty day I was carried through a way By a man who used my clay To shape me as a pot by placing on a hay. I was sold to a man I felt i am in ban And i seemed to ran But he made me a pan.