Save your Spam poems. A little bird tells me they may come in useful soon. Moving on to related matters.

The Irn Bru Song

What gives the Scots their courage? What makes them all so frisky?
Is it syrup in the porridge? Is it ginger in the whisky?
Is it wildness in the weather? Is it puddocks in the stew?
Let's answer all together. No! It’s old Irn Bru!

Some give three cheers for lager beers in knobbly mugs with lids on.
Some say, 'Hooray for Beaujolais! It's what we raise our kids on!'
Long John Silver swigs (or swogs) hot grogs with all his pirate crew.
But true Scots choose that special booze – your old Irn Bru!

This wonder-working potion is the toast of kings and queens.
Take bedsprings, batteries, bicycles, and slot machines,
Souse well in prussic acid, boil a year, then strain it through
Old brillo pads and engine oil for old Irn Bru!

Chinese at ease sip China Teas, stout Irish tipple stout,
Transylvanians suck maidens’ blood, then hang about.
But thirsty Scots quaff pots and pots of what is tried and true,
A beverage and a religion – old Irn Bru!

..Chortle!