I guess I should dedicate this one to Gideon Defoe. I should, but I haven't decided whether I will or not yet.
a poem about Hams
some will tie theirs up in Notts
others Birm theirs 'til they're hot
some people Woke theirs all night long
poke them with sticks and forks and prongs
some Clap their meat 'twixt both their hands
to make music for pop group bands
i know a man who Wrex his belt
by whipping his to make them melt
but hams of some are sadly Fake
composed from rat or glue and hake
i guess that what your hams become
will all depend on where you're from
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