Spam POEM

SPAM

Those from the islands consider it a feat
to partake of this meat. They fry it for breakfast 
and the day's not complete unless it's stirred into soups 
simmered to red heat.
(Refrain)
Not even Charlton Heston would touch that intestine. 
A Chinese yam
an old picnic ham
All take a front seat
to that pink, greasy meat.

A preliminary exam
of that container of spam reveals the discrete
use of waste meat.

Bowels and snouts
the back of the lap mixed with chassis lube 
and other such crap. 
Teats, and feet
stuff off the street compound the most part 
of that horrible meat.
{Refrain)

Yes, ma'am
We are serving spam We are under the orders of Uncle Sam.
We're conserving best cuts by eating the guts 
and conserving resources
by grinding up horses