SPAM

Jackson had its acorns, Grant his precious rye,
Terry had his poison beef, worse you couldn't buy;
The doughboy had his hardtack without this army's jam.
All armies on their stomachs move, and this one moves on SPAM.

For breakfast they will fry it, for supper it is baked,
For dinner what a delicacy, they have it pat-a-caked;
Next morning its with flapjacks or maybe powdered eggs.

Where the hell they get it all? They must order it by kegs.
Surely for the evening meal they'll cook up something new,
But these cooks are surry uncanny, now it's in the stew.

And thus this tireless cycle goes, it never seems to cease;
SPAM in stew, SPAM in pie, SPAM in boiling grease
We've had it tucked in cabbage for corned beef,
We've had it with spaghetti with cmie and rice.
I remember such a happy day, we only had it twice.

Back home I have an angel whose name I'm going to change.
I'll buy her a fancy home with a new fandangled range;
But marital bliss is sure to cease if I ever ask of ham
And find my eggs are looking up from a slice of cursed SPAM.


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