A Hymn To Spam

"What is this stuff
That doth jiggle in the breeze
And smells like that which
I avoid when I walk in the stables?"

O meaty mass of fleshy flesh
Who with the dark and wild
And wanton world doth mesh
In sizzling ecstasy, tasty and mild!

From the Ellay to the halls of Prism,
To the salty fields of Elysium,
Come to me glorious Spam,
Thou cooked, boiled and pressed ham!

IO Spam! IO Spam!
Come with eggs and toast,
With bacon and duckling roast,
Come wild! Come sliced!
Come mashed! Come Diced!

IO Spam! Spam! IO! IO!
With this key thy veil I rend!
Thy starry blue tin I twist and bend!
That the thee in thee might
Become the me in me tonight!

And the thee in me I feel
As the me in thee I peel;
With glee and abandon I stab
My trident into thy quivering flab!
IO Spam! Spam IO! IO! IO!

With fervor and awe you relent
Before my furious murderous intent;
I whip I mash I slash I cream
Thy body to consumate this dream.
IO Spam! IO Spam! Spam! Spam! IO! IO!

I dice I beat I flake I shake
I cover thee with Shake and Bake;
Spam! O sweet sweet Spam!
Never again will I slam my ham!
IO Spam! IO Spam! IO!
O yeah, Spam my baby...
Come to papa, Spam.
Oooooh...Spam...I never dreamed...
IIOOOO!! SPAAAAAM!! *

*(The secret sense of these words is to be sought in the numeration thereof.)