The Butcher's Time Loaf Poem by Paul Hartal

One early afternoon,
while his wife
was playing her fancy fife
the butcher hummed a croon
but suddenly stopped
and soon
he took a paunchy time loaf
and with a sharp knife,
for he did not need
other devices,
he cut the loaf into sixty slices.

On the following day,
although it was a holiday,
the butcher sliced the time loaf
into one hundred portions.
And he said, one should be an oaf
not to, not to do so
because without a trace of shadow
this way is more is more logical
as well as more economical.