When I was young, I wanted ham

But my old mum

gave me spam, spam, spam

 

She gave me so much spam

I couldn’t taste the bread

For spam lay on my stomach

Like dull and heavy lead

 

If I complained too much

She’d sing the old refrain

About starving kids in Africa

Where spam clouds never rained

Where ham was never heard of

And they had no spam at all

For complaining about spam

I would feel very small

 

She’d tell me to just cherry pick

Tomato only eat

But amid the mounds of spam she gave

That always proved a feat

 

I often salivated

at the thought of all that ham

Locked up in some larder

While I overdosed on spam

Until one day I’d had enough

determined to go free it

Tell the world just how I felt

For surely they must see it?

 

Now I’ve started my own army

You can join me if you wish

I’m fighting for the freedom

Of that tasty porcine dish

This will be our slogan

I gave it so much thought

Stop, Ham, Abuse Now oKay!

(SHANK for short)

 

By now you’re probably thinking

This poem is a sham

It’s really not a poem

About the plight of ham

But a piece of tosh

A shambles

A total piece of shite

Written in no time at all

Then dumped upon your site

 

To that I hold my hands up

With one last thing to say

 

‘Why? You must be used to it by now…’