my mother made a meatloaf
By Jack Prelutsky
My mother made a meat loaf
that provided much distress,
she tried her best to serve it,
but she met with no success,
her sharpest knife was powerless
to cut a single slice,
and her efforts with a cleaver
failed compleatly to sufice.
She whacked it with a hammer,
and she smacked it with a brick,
but she couldn't phase that meat loaf,
it remained without a nick,
I decided I would help her
and assailed it with a drill,
but the drill made no impression,
though I worked with all my skill.
We chipped at it with chisels,
but we didn't make a dent,
it appeared my mother's meat loaf
was much harder than cement,
then we set upon the meat loaf
with a hatchet and an ax,
but that meat loaf stayed unblemished
and withstood our fierce attacks.
We borrewed bows and arrows,
and we firesd at close range,
it didn't make a difference,
for that meatloaf didn't change,
we beset it with a blow torch,
but we couldn't find a flaw,
and we both were flabbergasted
when it broke the power saw.
We hired a hippopotamus
to trample it around,
but that meat loaf was so mighty
that it simply stood its ground,
now we manufacture meat loaves
by the millions, all year long,
they are famous in construction,
building houses tall and strong.
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