Once upon a time, there was a sullen man
His only rather allusive wish
Was to change his name from Sam
And be able to be his own boss

You see, he works pushing green eggs and ham
When he'd much rather sell tropical fish;
The kind in all colors and shapes galore - as large as a van!
Or, perhaps, as skinny as floss.

But first, to get out of his jam,
He needed a job that put more on his dish.
He searched through the effusive offers saying,
"Ma'am,I just want a job that has posh."

Sam looked at the lady with her spray-on tan
As she said, "Well, it's not lavish,
But you could make spam."
Make spam! That's not posh, by gosh!

But dear Sam did not recoil, man.
Although canning spam was not his niche,
He zealously canned that spam by hand!
His adversary could not help but admire, that Josh.

Who, by the way, got all the ladies 'cause of his Vans.
Back to our Sam; he canned so fast, much like a witch!
Maybe he had found his niche, and it wasn't a sham!
He stayed on to can his spam, stopping only to eat squash.

But that's a story for another day,
It's really time I hit the hay!