A scientist quite atmospheric,
Practiced a sideline quite lyric.
His Web page, they say,
Is SPAM all the way,
Providing us victories pyrrhic.
The snorting of piglets most rank
rises up from the processor tank.
One by one they squeal out
as Hormel harvests their snout
to put in their blue tin "pig bank."
Twenty-five piglets per hour
times SPAM to the seventeenth power
in whatever equation
its an abomination
and from ten feet makes my milk sour.
It's gelid and squishy and pink
and, good Lord, it might learn to think
if with great resolve
it was left to evolve
for ten minutes under the sink.
Great lubricant for *ahem* porking
can be found in the can when uncorking.
So scoop up pig blubber
and gardez votre rubber
and hope it's not vegans you're dorking.
And then, the makings for the feast!
Fit for neither bird nor beast,
Bread of Wonder
Coke for thunder
and no condiments or toppings in the least!
And before the time comes to devour
this pink and white and wobbly tower
we check in fear
that the bathroom's clear
for we will sit there evermore.
A femme fatale from Musee d'Art
Once pressed a SPAM against her heart.
"Oh, SPAM, it's thee I love," she said
And sliced it neatly on her bread.
That unkind, thoughtless little tart.
An itinerant young beggar named Josh
Was seeking an input of dosh.
Used SPAM he would rent
For no more than one cent
And eat what was left for his nosh.
An endearing young ostrich named Lou
Once laid an egg lopsided and skew;
When viewed from within
One could see a blue tin,
Though how it got there no one knew.
A miser, on hearing his knell,
Held a wake for all the cartel.
To a guest he said, "Sam.
That's not roast beef, it's SPAM.
I hope that no one can tell."
The theme of a HAIKU is SPAM?
"Desecration," I cry, "What a SHAM!"
The art of Japan
Brought low! I should ban...
But how about SPAM IKEBANA?
There was an old Wrinkly from Sutton
Who refused to write poems about mutton.
Yet SPAM he preferred
To adorn with a word
Till St. Peter aborted his button.
The legendary old lady of Twickenham,
Who took off her boots and got sick in them,
Ate boiled SPAM,
Not roast lamb.
Now her boots won't let her walk quite so quick in 'em.
There was a young lad from Moritz
Who ate so much junk he had fits.
He shoved down stale SPAM
With a battering ram,
Then complained when he suffered from zits.
An adventurous chef from Castille
Invented a new gourmet meal.
Called "Ragout du SPAM,"
It was shipped to Iran
To allow it to slowly congeal.
A famished princess from Dundalk
Asked for food the first time she could talk.
"A knight on a steed
And a chivalrous deed
To bring me some SPAM and a fork."
An immoral young bride from Bombay
Much enjoyed a premarital lay
With a salesman of SPAM
On his bed in Assam,
And another in north Mandalay.
A vulnerable young vicar name Glyn
Was obsessed with the need to have sin.
He sinned from the start
With any old tart
And mixed SPAM with his vodka and gin.
A disgustingly obese old cat
Stuffed in SPAM and put on more fat.
Until, in a swoon,
He became a balloon
And floated far out from his mat.
There was once a talented carp
Who learnt how to play a jew's harp.
He greased it with SPAM
To make it go "Twang,"
While swimming around with a shark.
There was once a Dutch pianist from Leiden
Who preferred to play Mozart than Hayden.
He played a grand SPAM
In old Rotterdam
And a piece of pressed pork in Umuiden.
There was an old lady from Florida
Whose SPAM became horrider and horrider.
She jumped in the air
To give it a scare
But it screamed and slipped right down the corridor.
"Pay attention," roared the Battery Major,
"Or I'll slice off your heads with my sabre.
When the enemy comes nigh
Give him SPAM in the eye
And your bayonet adjacent his khyber."
A conscientious young pilgrim from Ghent
Ate junk as a penance for Lent.
On the way to a shrine
He had SPAM with red wine
And came as fast as he went.
"What's this?" said the Bishop of Clare.
"It's got gristle and bits of pig hair."
"That's SPAM," said the priest.
"I keep some for my 'Beast'
And the corpse in the crypt wants his share."
A crusty old Major from Kerry
Marinaded his SPAM with strong sherry.
When told to advance
He broke into a dance
With his cook and the colonel's Equerry.
A Hormelian from old Minnesota
Kept a hog in the back of his motor.
But he gave it to Mame
To make into SPAM,
Which he sent to the Sioux in Dakota.
An ambitious young SPAM from Hormel,
Well known at a five star hotel,
Became the main course
When served with brown sauce,
Ripe socks, and black Boots Fricadelle.
An indulgent young buck from Old Sarum
Was bent on acquiring a harem.
He offered fresh SPAM
To any madam
Who would join him in bed and then share him.
A fanatical surgeon named Grout
Was obsessed with taking things out.
From SPAM he'd extract
Grit, gristle, and fat,
And serve them with toast and smoked trout.
A retiring old Spaceman named Spock
Ate SPAM on the way to his rock.
By the time he reached there
He'd lost most of his hair
And wore a pink ribbon and frock.
A vulnerable young lad from Dundrum
Was continually missing his mum.
'Twas her SPAM he missed most
Served on rounds of burnt toast
And her jelly which doubled as gum.
A middle-aged sailor, Columbus,
Preferred travel by sea than by bus.
He used SPAM, on the way
To good old U.S.A.,
As a solid state satellite compass.
"Ach, mein Gott! Observe this," said Einstein,
"It looks like a klumpen of eisbein.
Nein, nein, perhaps not;
It's a spamical clot
From the depths of Niels Bohr's large intestine.
A religious old monk from Bombay
Would sacrifice a SPAM during May
As a purgative rite
To give demons a fright
And keep the mosquitos away.
SPAM, in a relative way,
has properties rather outré.
It speeds at such rate
through your gut from your plate
it's excreted the previous day.
A delicate young dinosaur called Dan
Was continually weak, sickly, and wan,
Until he had sex
With Spamasaurus T. Rex
And achieved an attractive pink tan.
There once was a man, rather spastic,
Who enjoyed various kinds of aspic.
He tried SPAM on a lark,
And was heard to remark,
"This stuff, my god, is SPAM-tastic!"
There once was a boy on the Internet,
whose poetic shortcomings made him fret.
Putting SPAM in haiku,
is easy enough to do;
But try putting SPAM in a sonnet!
A geriatric from County Kildare
Was losing the last wisps of his hair.
To inhibit the cull
He rubbed SPAM on his skull,
And now it's all pinkish and bare.
There was an old rhymester called Mick
Who was constantly weary and sick,
Being incapable of verse,
Poor sonnets or worse,
While brooding on SPAM for the trick.
There once was a cowboy named Ham,
Whose head was ensconced in grape jam.
He sat in a trough,
'Til a horse licked it off,
And then put on a helmet of SPAM.
There is a young fellow of Wales,
Whose technique for health never fails.
"When I feel a bit beat
I eat raw processed meat
For the US RDA of entrails."
In a hamlet in South Vietnam,
Lived some ladies in red, their madam.
They were cheap and quite easy,
But often were greasy,
As they took for their payment canned SPAM.
The death-focused Egyptians craved
Food for the eternally brave.
Was it cause or effect
That among the effects
They found SPAM in the Pharaonic graves?
An old man gave me a treat,
Of SPAM that he kept on his feet.
But unlike cured ham,
It smelled of toe jam
And luckily he drowned in some peat.
Demis Rousos got stuck in a canoe.
Sticks, levers, and oil wouldn't do,
So they rubbed in some SPAM,
Which diluted his tan,
And induced an impromptu cheese fondue.
Mick Hucknall got stuck in a lift,
Due to his current fashion of thrift.
His mouth overran With tomatoes and SPAM,
And his bloated exit from the lift was a gift.
An insomniac from downtown Lahore
Complained that her husband would snore.
So with SPAM and bitumen
And the greatest acumen
She glued his nose fast to the door.
A philosopher from France name Descartes
Scaled the heights of pure math and fine art.
In the fullness of time
His thoughts turned sublime
Like, "I stink so I'm SPAM," for a start.
There once was a chef named Rick Ney,
who cooked things with SPAM everyday.
Upon his TV,
he'd warm SPAM musubi,
while the Pistons and Lakers would play.
--Larry Nadon, firstname.lastname@example.org
A tactless young tourist from Toulouse
Fed SPAM to an oversexed moose.
It fell in his arms
Declaiming his charms;
An act though well meant quite obtuse.
Kurtis, well-liked in Sonoma,
On a budget, ate lots of bologna.
Switched over to SPAM,
"'Cause it's more who I am,"
To this day he's still living alone-a.
I submitted a limerick to you
To be archived with all the Spamku.
Kurtis's address I sent,
But it turns out 'twas bent
So here is the address that's true:
SPAM once joined me for dinner
He looked to me quite a bit thinner
Hormel thought it expedient
This great new ingredient
Pig guts and crack--it's a winner!
Carne's Construction stories I do now tell,
Of a remodel that had a strange smell.
For plaster was not cheap,
The price, way too steep.
So, he bought his stucco from "Hormel."
While grouting a tiled tub enclosure,
Ben ran out (almost lost his composure).
In the lunch Pauli made,
of yogurt, Spam, and marmalade,
'twas the answer (albeit not kosher).
SPAM is a rare treat you see--
Made with two pigs' feet, or three.
I'll put SPAM in the blender
To make it oh so tender.
It's my SPAM dip recipe.
SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, eggs, bacon, and SPAM.
What is this stuff passed off as ham?
Is it made from piggy bladder?
Some say it just doesn't matter.
I'll skip the meat--please pass the jam.
SPAM makes me nauseous and sick,
But I like a nice lim'rick.
I'll use seven syllables
And avoid SPAM edibles.
Unlike SPAM, rhymes end too quick.
There once was a man called Saddam
Who got "missiled" by dear Uncle Sam.
This act triggered Jihad
When Saddam twigged he had
Coated the nosecones with SPAM.
There once was a man from Atlanta
Who asked for SPAM from Santa.
Since he was behavin'
He got the SPAM he was cravin'
Then quaffed a bottle of Mylanta.
Baloney, wieners, and SPAM
I thank you, old Uncle Sam
Last week I had $2000
Now you have it all
I have baloney, wieners, and SPAM!!!
The guys at Hormel saw that gristle,
in a can that's as clean as a whistle,
was a nourishing snack,
or, when thrown, an attack,
it works as a food or a missile!
One thing about SPAM which is great,
is the interesting sounds it creates
like the post-supper burp
or the mucousy slurp
when you empty the can on a plate!
I like to eat lots of SPAM,
better than turkey or ham.
I like it best hot,
cooked right in a pot,
And I know that you don't give a damn.
While others will SPAM now address,
We should not forget S.O.S.
It came on a shingle.
On top of they'd mingle
Those items in SPAM they'd repress.
When you told me you knew how to bake,
I envisioned a roast or a cake.
With that bod like Raquel's
I could hear wedding bells,
But SPAM. You can jump in the lake.
On last Easter we had to say, "Damn!"
And to substitute a baked "Whole Ham."
Family anger I earned
When the entree I burned,
Our tradition at Easter is SPAM.
Said René Descartes, "Oh, God damn!
This stuff that I'm eating's not ham!"
Then with wisdom aloud
He astonished the crowd:
"I pork gristle, therefore I SPAM!"
To honor the SPAM theme I got
A can of . . . and ate it . . . and thought--
I'm back fifty years
My youth re-appears
So, fifty more cans of, I bought.
The knees of gnats. Of newts, a gram.
Of clots, of eyeballs, a half a dram.
Mix well in pot.
The Germans who invented SPAM.
A woman by the name of Kelly
Used SPAM instead of K-Y Jelly.
She gave birth;
A boy of girth
With a tattoo, "HORMEL," on his belly.
Justin Wilson won't do Leg of Lamb.
"I'm a Cajun cook, that's all I am,
And I'm lookin' to tipple
A bottle of Ripple
With my crawdads, my on'yons and SPAM."
When they dated, she made rack of lamb;
Gourmet dishes were part of her scam.
After she set the hook
Her prime recipe book
Was The Joy of Fast Cooking with SPAM.
Julia Child once eschewed Rack of Lamb
Saying, "I may be wrong, fool I am.
But I'm searching you know
For a perfect Bordeaux
To wed smoothly my truffles and SPAM.
"Just try my cuisine, dear madame.
It's chicken croquettes, stuffed with SPAM."
Her id, overheatin'
She ne'er felt like eatin'
And she said, "Check out this bearded clam."
"The stomach," says Napoleon
"Is what an army travels on."
Where else to put the blame
When Moscow's winter came,
They found that all their SPAM was gone.
A fat girl, an upstate New Yorker,
Thought she was some kind of a corker.
She gave not a damn,
She ate only SPAM,
Grew bristles and smelled like a porker.
SPAM for dinner they say is quite nice
But use caution and heed this advice:
It's made from pigs' asses
Including the gasses
So I sure wouldn't order it twice.
A Pentagon note: Do not pamper
Our men in field. Do not tamper
With diets that might
Make them hate to fight.
For dinner one fresh can of SPAM per.
I would never cook SPAM in a pan,
Too much heat would annul my swell plan;
Oh, good heavens above,
Body temp's what I love:
Juicy pork in a tight-fitting can!
A cook from a backward land said, "Perhaps
I can lift myself up by boot straps."
To her boss said, "You're a tony
So you get no baloney
And I'll fix you a sandwich of MAPS."
At the Gates, St. Peter said, "Sam,
They tell me you always served SPAM.
You displease me beaucoup,
And I know what I'll do.
I will send you to Hell, so now scram!"
GIs claim that it was a scam,
That the victim was old Uncle Sam,
That some son-of-a-bitch
Is now filthy rich
From making the army eat SPAM.
"For World War Three we're making SCLAM
But unlike War Two's SPAM/HAM sham,
Inside each hundredth tin
We'll put a whole clam in.
Good luck to all. Yours, Uncle Sam."
I just dined with the King of Siam,
At my house, and he said to me, "Sam,
I could eat a Big Mac
Or even boiled yak,
And I knew you were cheap, but why SPAM?"
From dark corners of mystic Siam
Came a Swami they called, the "I AM.
"Thou shalt nots" he'd repeat
And proscribed eating meat.
In his closet though, he'd wolf down SPAM.
The soldiers when first eating SPAM,
Kept looking for some bits of ham--
The SPAM/HAM sound--
But all they found
Were bits of both scam and of sham.
Now SPAM's an incredible thing,
Not only to ribs does it cling;
I fed it to Mary,
My lovely canary,
Who gagged while attempting to sing!
I like SPAM in a can,
Fried or baked, or with a yam.
Not too salty,
Nor too sweet,
SPAM always makes the perfect treat!
There once was a man from New York
Who tired of regular pork.
To the market he went,
Not much money he spent,
For some SPAM and a chrome-plated fork.
There was a young preppie named Dan
Who wouldn't eat food from a can
'Til mother's advice
Began his demise
Dan's every dessert is now SPAM
Its an integral part of SPAM lore
That SPAM got England through the war
To defend old Blighty
They blitzed Germans nightly
To be bombed with square tins made 'em sore
There once was a girl who liked SPAM.
She said it was better than ham.
She would eat it all day,
And now they all say,
Never prefer SPAM to ham.
The great photography scam,
Involved selling pictures of SPAM.
With an airbrush or two,
The pink, sticky goo
Could easily pass for a ham.
There once was a man named Sam
Who was desperately frightened of SPAM.
"Don't worry," said his friend,
"See the size of that tin?
I'd be more worried 'bout salted ham."
There once was a penniless man,
Who decided that veggies were bland.
So he blended three mice,
With a tiny hint of spice,
And thus was born glorious SPAM.
There once was a preacher named Pete
Who went out to purchase a treat.
He picked up a can,
Was confronted by SPAM, and cried,
"Help! Satan! Posing As Meat!"
SPAM is a registered trademark of Hormel Foods Corporation for luncheon meat. The Haiku Archive Master and the contributors to this website have no legal, commercial or financial involvement with Hormel Foods. Neither the information presented here, nor the manner in which it has been presented, has been sanctioned by Hormel Foods.