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BUTTER MY BREAD


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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