To My Darling--I'd just like to say
That the flowers in this lovely bouquet
Have the same shade of pink
(But not the same stink)
As the SPAM you served up yesterday.
I would like a low-fat delight,
But SPAM is a caloric fright!
For people like me
There's SPAM Lite, you see
So now I can eat SPAM all night.
A wonderous globule of pink
Its juices I do love to drink
It may not be meat
But it tastes kind of neat
And it's "So good it's gone" in a wink!
At a party, the day he turned twenty,
The cigar maker, Carlos Fuente
Tried SPAM for the first time
Then was heard to decline
An offer of more: "No, that's plenty!"
My best friend got a job overseas.
I contracted a social disease.
Then I had to attend
A SPAMfest. My friend,
It's so true: bad luck does come in threes.
When the boss served up SPAM and zucchini
His employees were all none too keen. See,
They knew all too well
To escape from this hell
Would take all of the skills of Houdini.
Tragic scenes at La Scala, Milan
As a scene shifter slipped on some SPAM:
A top prima donna
Was nearly a goner
And the bass now sings high for a man.
When my cousin was down on his luck
He came up with a plan: steal a truck.
Well he got clean away
But, suffice it to say,
It was chock full of SPAM--what a schmuck!
A nickety nickety nam
A wickety wickety wham.
A slickety splock
And a rickety rock.
But a tackety wackety SPAM!
Mike O'Connor, your standards are fallin'
Your last offering here has it all in
Terms of rhyming and metre
(There is no one to beat ya)
But its content - like SPAM - is appallin'!
For those of you with a penchant for rhyme
And can spare a bit of your time
Read some SPAM verse!
Hey! It could always be worse!
Could be poetry about a mime!
Hey, you GUYS! Listen UP: it seems SOME
Of you STILL write spam'RICKS that are DUMB.
I should NOT have to MEN(tion)
The inVI(o)lable SCAN(sion).
Ti ti TUM ti ti TUM ti ti TUM!!
How ya doin', my loyal cyber-fans?
Just to keep you abreast of my plans--
Am I goofing off? Nope, as
My new magnum opus
Will be serialised on SPAM cans!
I took my Jack Russell named Spot
For his regular round-the-block trot.
When we got back, he whined
Till I went off to find
Him some SPAM. What a clever boy--NOT!
The hypnotist's act was quite creepy.
He swung his gold watch; "You feel sleepy
You're a small child once more
By the dining room door
And your Mom's serving SPAM--Don't get weepy!"
At the New York Ballet I work nights
As a dresser for the leading lights.
I give the star dancer
A "charisma enhancer"
By stuffing SPAM meat down his tights.
A stockbroker friend from Manhattan
Is obsessed with the late General Patton.
This guy's pride and joy
Since he was a small boy
Is a SPAM slice Old Blood and Guts spat on.
Yes, you could call my nose retroussé.
There's a reason why it looks this way...
My visage was made flat
By a large baseball bat
When I served up my SPAM meat soufflé.
A NASA PR man named Tuttle
Is preparing a robust rebuttal
As the rumor increases
That they used small SPAM pieces
To repair the heat shield on the shuttle.
Girls! The way to excite a man's lust:
Just develop a well-endowed bust!
Use SPAM meat to enhance it
If you're willing to chance it
Won't meet with disdain and disgust.
There's only so much one can say
About SPAM. At the end of the day,
People know the rank smell;
And the foul taste as well
Is now pretty much a cliché.
There was a thin lady called Pam.
For all her life she wouldn't eat ham.
One day she took a bite
Of pork's canned hide--
Fat lady Pam now blames it on SPAM.
Here's a message for Hugo Moreau:
You've got quite a long way to go!
You must spend more time
On metre and rhyme
To become a SPAM limerick pro.
There was a researcher named Cho,
Who had spare time and money to blow.
So he thought up a scam,
Used others' talent and SPAM,
And the rest is history, you know.
Poor Geoffrey's Holme's life is surreal.
He never goes out for a meal.
He gets all his kicks
Writing quaint limericks,
Eating SPAM, and the odd jellied eel.
SPAM presents a paradox.
If you shove some down in your socks
The commingling of smells
Reminds one of those swells
The Cambridge four oars without cox.
Surely I must have been dreamin'
Or was it maybe Moliere's schemin'?
For I saw clear as day
Twixt big fields of mown hay
Blocks of SPAM floating free in bull semen.
A big Donovan guy, yclept Steve,
Caused mathematicians to grieve.
At Bulgarian sums
He would outclass his chums--
He had far more than SPAM up his sleeve.
"Hi there, folks! My name's Victor Kyam.
I once tried a portion of SPAM.
This may sound double Dutch
But I liked it so much
That I bought the company, God damn!"
Are you puzzled why Hormel conceal
Their main product in jackets of steel?
They know full well if
You got just a brief whiff
Of raw SPAM it would lose its appeal.
An anal retentive employed
The skills of the great Sigmund Freud
To explain why, replete,
She could never excrete
The SPAM that she'd lately enjoyed.
"Ze analysis I hef deployed
To explain vy your bowels von't void
Ven you indulge in SPEM,
Reveals, Fräulein Schwemm,
It's your muzzer, viz whom you're ennoyed."
"As a child you vere totally devoid
Of ze love of your muzzer und toyed
Viz a savory SPAM strüdel
Vich you threw for your poodle
Till your muzzer bade it be destroyed."
This girl's flagging spirits were buoyed
Now she knew why her favorite treat cloyed!
"Ven you next visit me
Ve'll begin therapy.
Meanvile, SPEM I suggest you avoid."
A brute named O'Doole with a ruler
Preserved his dead SPAM in the cooler.
Bare bottoms he'd beat
Then rub with pink meat
There really was no one more crueler!
What's that? That's the mat the cat sat on
When that poor pussy started to batten
On his diet of SPAM.
Then he exploded--BLAM!
Now the walls have an abstract pink pattern.
Every morning I sit on the train,
Deep in thought, pensive, racking my brain,
Spending oodles of time
On each new SPAM-linked rhyme.
Take my word, it can be quite a strain.
"Are these really SPAM canapes?" "Natch!
Have some more! I made up a large batch."
But the stench of rank pork
Made me holler New York.
"Watch your step on this slippery pink patch!"
A florist from North Albuquerque
Had strange cravings you may find quite quirky:
She ate fried SPAM and custard,
Razor blades with French mustard,
And brass nails with her Thanksgiving turkey!
No one could be nearly as crass as
My brothers! They've just piled up masses
Of empty SPAM cans
To prove they're big fans
Of Mausollus of Halicarnassus.
They once took archaeology classes
At a school very near Mount Parnassus.
But this SPAM-scented Wonder
Caused the neighbors to chunder.
Let's just hope it's a brief phase that passes.
I've an old rocking chair made of teak--
Quite relaxing, apart from a squeak.
To restore my lost peace
I applied some SPAM grease.
No noise now--just an odious reek.
When he watched his wife breaking the seal
In the SPAM can's protective blue steel,
Although not prone to kvetch,
Uncle Mort had to retch--
He imagined he heard a sow squeal
As Aunt Vi chopped the SPAM with great zeal,
The old guy struggled hard to conceal
His enormous distaste
For the rancid pig waste
And its grease which began to congeal.
"Dinner-time will be quite an ordeal!"
Thought my uncle. "I just hope that she'll
Let me have a free choice!"
With a catch in his voice,
He said wanly, "I'll stick to the veal!"
My poor aunt quickly started to feel
Really mad--she'd spent hours on this meal!
So she ended his life
With a 12-inch bread knife:
The vengeance of Hormel, I feel.
A thesaurus researcher named Slater
Ordered SPAM, then informed the head waiter,
"'Gag, puke, barf, lose my cookies,
Blow my lunch, heave, upchuck' is
A list of what I will do later."
While enjoying his cruise holiday,
Nibbling SPAM, sipping iced Perrier,
Bob, a North Yorkshire vet,
Was extremely upset
When the wind blew his hairpiece away.
"The loss of my rug will betray
My bald patch!" thought poor Bob with dismay.
So he covered his head
With SPAM slices instead
To ward off the sun's UVA.
As he snoozed in the heat of midday,
His new sunscreen began to sauté;
SPAM grease flowed down his chest,
Through the holes in his vest,
And caused his Y-fronts to decay.
Meanwhile Bob's aeronautic toupée
Flew right over the billowing spray
Of the SS Potsdam
And alit on the SPAM
Of the steerage class luncheon buffet.
In an instant, the chef (aka
El SPAM Maestro, Manuel Duarte),
Overcoming his shock,
Skewered the hirsute pink block
To a thunderous cry of "Olé!"
To the victor the spoils, as they say:
They gave Manuel a SPAM pink bouquet
And marched him, shoulder high,
To loud cheers ("What a guy!")
With his conquest aloft on a tray.
New Year's challenge! Beginning tonight,
Every day, in a SPAMerick I write,
I'll try to display
The Word of the Day
From the Merriam-Webster web site.
455. (Jan 1st)
Serve him SPAM and my Dad, normally cordial,
Turns into the Green Hulk. Oh, my Lord, he'll
Roll around in the dirt
In his tattered white shirt
And bellow like something primordial!
456. (Jan 2nd)
I once heard that Catherine the Great
Met the future tsar on a blind date.
He loved SPAM, hot or cold,
Which his cash, jewels and gold
Went a long way to edulcorate.
457. (Jan 3rd)
I'll start with an abject apology:
I'm no expert on modern philology
And the portmanteau SPAM
(An elided spiced ham)
Ain't at all archetypal haplology.
458. (Jan 4th)
Double chin and my hair's turning grey,
Yes, it's downhill from here all the way!
But I'm thankful I am
Still The Laureate of SPAM:
A richly deserved sobriquet!
459. (Jan 5th)
As the transport plane plunged down head first,
The pilot thought his luck was cursed.
"First the job to take SPAM
To the isle of Guam;
Now I'm stuck in this damn microburst!"
460. (Jan 6th)
A restaurant reviewer named Tiffany
Took exception to SPAM. She would stiff any
Waiter who tried
To serve it grilled or fried;
But flambé proved to be an epiphany.
461. (Jan 7th)
There, there, little piggy, don't cry!
You know that we all have to die.
Ending up on a plate
Is quite clearly your fate:
To the nearest SPAM cannery hie!
462. (Jan 8th)
Dave Pawson, marine life explorer,
Coated sharks with SPAM grease, hoping for a
Clear proof that this goop,
With its stench of pig poop,
Would deter the most dogged remora.
463. (Jan 9th)
When considering things gastronomic,
SPAM would have to be classed tragicomic...
Come on! Don't trust to luck! It's
A must your sick bucket's
By your side to make things ergonomic.
464. (Jan 10th)
All the folks I encounter agree it
Is a turn-off that SPAM meat, albeit
Packaged quite well,
Has a horrible smell
Reminiscent of roadkill or shee-it...
465. (Jan 11th)
The master chef, Wilbur T. Logue,
In the thirties, brought SPAM into vogue.
What a great improviser!
His beef steak tenderizer
Was a size 13 hobnailed brown brogue.
466. (Jan 12th)
My sister's boyfriend is Peruvian.
She thinks that he's totally groovy 'n'
Cool. But this man
Has a penchant for SPAM,
Which makes him seem antediluvian.
467. (Jan 13th)
Of SPAM addicts all over the nation
Has been damned with faint praise
Since career resumés
Have been padded with confabulation.
468. (Jan 14th)
Oh, no! Call me over-fastidious,
But, when faced with something quite as hideous
As SPAM gratinée
At my boss's soirée,
My thoughts border on the perfidious.
There once lived a monstrous SPAMzilla
Who dwelt in a derelict villa.
In the heat of the day
It would sip iced Tokay
While it nibbled a "croque gorilla."
Once a jockey they called Mad Maloney
Rode a SPAM in a race as a pony.
It finished the course
Like a thoroughbred horse,
Just behind a New York baloney.
When opening a new tin of SPAM,
It's essential not to shout "Damn"
When you rip off the lid
And it careers in a skid
To lodge in the hair of aunt Pam.
There once was a pacifist knight
Who never slew dragons on sight.
Fed SPAM and baked beans,
Boiled carrots and greens,
They lost all their fire and their fight.
If you SPAM every hour for a week
(And your stomach is lined with hard teak),
You'll grow a long snout
Which will root all about
So you'll grunt like a pig as you speak.
There was a young man named Nanook,
Who ordered some SPAM from a book.
Much to his chagrin,
He'd bought a case--not a tin;
Saith he: "One more bite and I'll pook."
475. (Jan 15th)
A ski novice named Tim Fitzclarke
Eats raw SPAM in a St. Moritz park;
Since the cold hurts his hands
He will keep that steel can
To help fill each expected sitzmark.
476. (Jan 16th)
A pig parts processor's mild chatter
Turned to angry outburst when, riled that a
New Hormel directive
Made SPAM lunch non-elective,
He became an impassioned wildcatter.
477. (Jan 17th)
A grubby, debauched libertine
Every month buys Esquire magazine.
Armed with four or five issues,
Cans of SPAM and some tissues,
What ensues is depraved and obscene.
478. (Jan 18th)
A tight-fisted, miserable Hull gent,
(Never known as at all self-indulgent)
At his very first try
Won a lifetime's supply
Of SPAM! Now his broad smile is fulgent.
479. (Jan 19th)
So-called "experts" on Big Foot know damn all!
It's no relict of some extinct mammal
But made by Frankenstein
From SPAM meat, tied with twine,
And the heart, spleen, and hide of a camel.
480. (Jan 20th)
A Scotsman who lived in Wyoming,
Exercising his dog in the gloaming,
Saw a SPAM can and kicked it;
But the pooch chased and licked it...
When they got home the mutt's mouth was foaming.
481. (Jan 21th)
Since I lost my job and my prosperity,
I can open SPAM cans with dexterity.
It may not be prime steak
But it's easy to make
And the flies disappear with celerity.
They gave the "Blue Tin" to Big Bill.
The sight of it made him quite ill.
"If there's one thing I hate
It's SPAM on my plate.
They're all homing in for the kill!"
An artist who lived in Moritz
Suffered often from madness and fits.
He'd rub SPAM on his nose,
When painting a pose,
And sometimes around his armpits.
"Give me SPAM," said a famous gourmet,
"Well matured and served on a tray;
Surrounded with chips
And asparagus tips
In the midst of a herbal bouquet."
485. (Jan 22nd)
"SPAM smells," says my friend, Bettie Hogger,
"Like the trainers of some sweaty jogger!"
Everyone who hears this
Says "That's just how it is!"
(If he's not a complete pettifogger.)
486. (Jan 23rd)
This "Challenge" of mine makes me curse:
Words are hard and each day they get worse.
When I stay up this late
I just can't ideate
Anything, let alone a SPAM verse.
487. (Jan 24th)
I once asked young Father Ignatius
If he'd share our SPAM meal. He said, "Gracious!
Is it really that late?
M-mm-m, we must make a date..."
(For a priest, he can be quite mendacious.)
488. (Jan 25th)
A diamond-encrusted pool cue;
Solid gold taps in the loo;
Champagne drunk from a jar;
SPAM with black caviare...
These are marks of the rank parvenu.
489. (Jan 26th)
Said a Dad to his youngsters, "Now scoot!
I just don't have the time to dispute
Whether, if SPAM were slicker,
We'd have won the war quicker.
It's a point that's exceedingly moot."
490. (Jan 27th)
What a crafty scheme of Captain Kirk's
For dealing with factious Young Turks!
Send them through the transporter
To some place with no water
With just SPAM! Yes, it's cruel but it works!
491. (Jan 28th)
Though to some he seemed mawkish and fey,
Andy Warhol was quite engagé.
He portrayed Campbell's soup,
Not that sickly SPAM goop,
To the folks at Hormel's deep dismay.
There was a young Scotsman, McWhirt,
Who hid an old SPAM up his skirt.
Then when it exploded
He was all but eroded
And now he wears pants and a shirt.
Wherever karate is taught
The "Casting the SPAMs" is a sport.
The aim of one's throw
Is the nose of your foe;
An objective with danger quite fraught.
494. (Jan 29th)
A lonely and sad troglodyte
Just one day in the year buys SPAM Lite.
With that pig meat he sins...
When he tells me, he grins.
"Why the smile?" "It's tonight! It's tonight!"
495. (Jan 30th)
A sweet, little baby name Tommy Black
Turned pale green and proceeded to vomit back
The SPAM meat and pear
Fed him by the au pair.
His mother went straight on the mommy track.
496. (Jan 31st)
In a dark dungeon outside Dundee,
There were ghosts, ghoulies, and a banshee...
As he gnashed a SPAM hash
That he'd found in the trash,
Scooby Doo gave a yawn of ennui.
497. (Feb 1st)
"Southern slave owners must manumit
All the slaves they own, lickety-split?!?
Abe don't know whut he's a-doin'!
If Ah wuzn't a-chewin'
This heah SPAM-flavored jujube, Ah'd spit!"
498. (Feb 2nd)
Nowadays, if a victim of fashion,
Every girl must reduce her SPAM ration
Till she's just skin and bone:
In the temperate zone,
She could still qualify as an ascian.
499. (Feb 3rd)
Here's a letter from Hamish in Troon:
"Geoff, we know it's not hard to lampoon
Something loathsome and shitty
As SPAM. What a pity
Your verses are quite so jejune!"...
500. (Feb 4th)
...Though my rivals may sneer, I just smile.
My SPAM verses beat their's by a mile!
When accused of superbity
I outdo their acerbity
With my pen fully charged with pure bile.
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.