Often times I ponder Spam
Is it fat? Or is it ham?
Squashed into a squarish can,
a metaphor for all I am.
When my relations seem ungrateful,
I consume it by the plateful.
straight from the can, with flying fork,
It makes me feel less of a dork.
Tho' my dorkly status has not changed,
I leave the table less deranged.
Gut swollen with a surfeit
of artery clogging luncheon meat
So keep your ice cream and your cocoa
when lifes disasters make me loco.
I fry and gulp six pounds of Spam,
and I no longer give a damn.
Now, Mr.Pike, do try some Klik,
ReplyDeleteit cooks up fast, it's twice as quick,
Got axle grease fry it in?
You'll like old Klik,
It tastes like tin.
haha,,,loved your poem, lots of meat in it. ":))
This one's good, but I liked your cheesecloth poem better.
ReplyDeleteWhat. No Green Eggs?
ReplyDeleteMike my parody of Green aigs and ham, much like most of my song parodies, is not fit to be viewed by people who are squeamish. About anything.
ReplyDeleteGlory I think Cheesecloth has a certain gut wrenching sentimentality matched only by my hymn to Kardasian's ass.
Raymond is there euch a thing as Klik? Cause it sounds a bit fishy...
Baked Spam.
ReplyDeletePreheat oven to 375.
Slice SPAM into strips and lay on hardwood plank
Season according to taste.
Bake for 2 hours.
Cool slightly and remove spam from hardwood plank
Discard slices and cut plank into chunks.
Cover chunks with maple syrup.
Serve hot with woodchuck on the side.