Ottava Rima Of Spam, My Spamgnum Opus

An Ottava Rima Of Spam, Oh Damn!

Dripping pink gelatinous puddles of joy,
Comes out of the can in rectangular form;
I've craved Spam since I was a wee little boy,
Although I'm a girl, and my name is not Norm.
Halved pear with mayo in the middle enjoy!
Sails on a thick oozing spam ocean, lukewarm.
The culinary delights of this faux meat!
Remember it's cousin, a product called Treet?

Sometimes for our lunch, my mom would fry some Spam,
On dainty glass plates, with other things she'd fried;
Bologna, or pintos; she never fried lamb,
One time I fed spam to my dog and she died.
Daddy'd eat anything, he don't give a damn.
He'd fart so bad, and we'd tell him "go outside!"
It looks the same coming out as going in,
And clings to your napkin as you wipe your chin!

I loved that sound, as the key opened the can!
Kind of "scrinch, scrinch scrinch" of curling metal strip,
The gelatin would spurt out and coat my hand,
I'd play with the metal coil till my hand ripped!
I should of got stitches, to the hospital ran,
But my hand was protected by the spam drip.
My mommy once told me "there's no way in Hell,
Bad germs can live in a greasy Spam well"

We were Hilbillies, so we'd eat anything,
Pigs feet, liver and onions, gizzards, head cheese;
But Spam was the product that made my mouth sing!
On saltines with sardines, and chives if you please!
We'd eat it while singing out "MY DINGALING!"
Chuck Berry was awesome, he was the bees knees!
I'll leave you now, with some words that rhyme with spam:
Dam, clam, sham, ram, dram, yam, tam, wham, jam. Yes Ma'am!