Spam Poem by Roy Johnson

The perfect summer fare,
so most people said,
is slightly grilled, spicy Spam
and a bottle of chilled cheap red.

So in the summer we would sit
amidst the flora and fauna,
just nature and us,
no pool or sauna.
Our plates full of food,
potato salads and all
alongside Monty Python...
better than sitting in the mall.
The spread is divine,
there's ice in the wine,
we're just sitting in the shade…
it's the only way to dine.

But it's coming to an end
the summer time of spam,
this manmade ham,
and the chilled wine
infused with lime.
So hurry up Sam
bring along the fam,
make the most of the Spam,
‘cause winter's coming
and we'll be back to roast lamb
and a port of some sort,
while we're sitting by the fire
getting ready to retire.