Early each dawn
As water from my well was drawn
This young kid would seldom frown
With a rug twisted into a crown
Coming with her bucket upside down
Butter my bread
Persistent as though she begged
Her words in a dream while in bed
Adwoa told me of how sad
She lived with her dad.
Mum would have given me more she said
As I helped place the bucket on her head.
Butter and Bread
One just to complement as one is fed
Smear it as long as by taste you're led.
Although sweet scented from the oven
Maybe because it's not stored in heaven
By about a quarter past eleven
A loaf won't be as fresh as it was at seven
So anytime our eels we imagine
Let's not forget the sachet of margarine
That which changed the taste of a mere sanguine
To now a refined powerful queen
For a king cannot carry himself on a palanquin.
Bread and butter
Seldom if not often,
Alone, no one actually matter
Forget the yarns with which you are woven
Leave them, their craft and ego alone
They'll have their own sins to atone
Boast not on your unique aroma
For blood wouldn't function without plasma.
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