At the butchers' shop

Three butchers stood around the block
Their knives all drawn, their eyes all locked
Upon the firm and fatted beast
On which the people were to feast

They all agreed, to their surprise
It needed cutting down to size
But one man's gristle, skin or bone
Was to the next a no-go zone

Exactly where the knife should fall
They just couldn’t agree at all
And worse, when one said “let’s start now”
Things turned into a might row

“You’re being far too hasty lad
“Your judgement really is quite bad”
So said the grey one, adding that
“We need, for now, to keep some fat”

“You’re wrong”, the young one then replied
“And see that stuffing there inside
“I would remove some straight away
“You watch, it will be quite okay”

The old one looked at each in turn
And then remarked, with some concern
“While you are fanning people’s fears
“You’re still wet behind the ears”

“Honesty is what we need
“The cuts will hurt, the beast will bleed
“The pain will linger, burn and throb
“It will not be a pleasant job

“You may well think that I don’t care
"But I’d cut some from everywhere
“It’s all a matter, if you please
“Of knowing your priorities”

“So let the people now decide
“And judge what should be baked or fried
“We’ll lay our wears out in the shop
“And each point out which bits we’d chop”

Although they knew that would be best
They played their cards close to their chests
And none could summon up the nerve
To clarify which cuts they'd serve