Inchkeeper Bale

A single small byte came to call,
But the keeper demanded it all:
“Content-Length, please—
What unit of these?
And why are you so very small?”

A shipment arrived nice and packed—
The manifest perfectly stacked.
But ounces were listed,
Not grams, so it missed it,
And the keeper sent shipment straight back.

Nothing may pass through that gate
Unless it’s been measured straight.
No uncounted thing,
No untagged package wing,
The keeper enforces each trait.

The keeper once filed its own number,
But the measurement drove it to slumber.
Its ID got crossed,
Its filing got lost,
And re-register it had to, encumber.

Each byte needs its bill of lading,
No guessing, no estimating, no fading.
The keeper will check
Every spec on the deck,
And reject it if something’s cascading.

At the gate stands the keeper of inch,
Who won’t let an unmeasured thing pinch.
“Where’s the Content-Length?
What’s your measurement strength?
Show me your manifest, or don’t cinch.”

The keeper demands every spec:
Each decimal, fraction, and check.
Come not with a guess,
Come not with a mess,
Or you’ll find yourself marking the deck.

Nothing escapes the inspection—
Each item receives full detection.
No unmarked ware,
No improperly paired,
The keeper maintains every section.