Tiveria
Sheeptastic!
Into the cantina, I walked looking for a cutie,
Grabbed a drink, a peach-cobbler smoothie.
I saw a blue colored fish, playing a band-fill
And green spittle flew, from his land-fill.
"I do not like Mos Eisley spam.
I do not like it with red jam.
I do not like it in a car.
I do not like them in the bar.
For the last time! I say it loud.
I do not like the spam, and shout it proud!"
I was shocked to hear such angry verbs.
From such a livid fish, with livid words.
A dark look upon his face, and I was told.
This fish would not be so easily sold.
"Do you like spam in the day?
Or how about upon a bail of hay?
In a dish? Near a moat?
How about some spam, in a boat?
A mottled face, such as yours
Truly likes spam on all fours!"
The fish was mad - oh he was pizzed!
he threw the bandfill down, he was so miffed!
Came at me and pushed a finger to my chest.
It pushed me back, he pushed so fast!
"I do not like spam in the day!
Nor upon a bail of hay!
Bah! In a dish or near a moat!
I do not even want it in a boat!
I don't like spam on all fours!
No leave before I hit the floor!"
What one does not like his spam, I muttered.
And tried to find some in the cubbard.
I found a can, sealed up tightly
When he pulled his fists up, ready to fight me!
"Do you like it boiled or fried?
Sauced up nicely, or maybe dried?
With bivoli stew or rancor ale?
Spam is nice when you're in jail!
In a room, or on a roof?
Surely you like spam with hoofs!"
That fish smacked me down with sudden force
And did much damage with no remorse!
My blackened eye peered at the man.
Who was ranting as only a fish can!
"I do not like it boiled or fried!
With sauce or even dried!
Bivoli stew or rancor ale
And You'll be sitting in that jail!
Not in a room, or near a roof.
I do not like spam with hoofs!"
An Officer showed up in white.
to watch over this silly fight.
No more hitting - I'll take you in!
Do not make me say it again!
"I hear you do not like your spam baked!
Do you like it with some cake?
How about spiced with bantha fat?
Or laced salt, how about that?
Do you like your spam done cold?
Or how about spam, a day old?"
The white one started on the fish
Amazed anyone could not like the dish
Rankin stood in disbelief.
Wasn't anyone to give him relief!
"I do not like my spam baked!
Or even with some vanilla cake!
I do not like it spiced with fat.
Or laced with salt! Forget that!
I do not like it warm or cold.
Or even like it new or old."
Seeing my face, they took him in.
And I hear he is still rantin' sin.
Crying about his hate for spam.
No one knew how he was damned.
"I do not like Mos Eisley spam.
I do not like it with red jam.
I do not like it in a car.
I do not like them in the bar.
For the last time! I say it loud.
I do not like the spam, and shout it proud!
I do not like spam in the day!
Nor upon a bail of hay!
Bah! In a dish or near a moat!
I do not even want it in a boat!
I don't like spam on all fours!
No leave before I hit the floor!
I do not like it boiled or fried!
With sauce or even dried!
Bivoli stew or rancor ale
And You'll be sitting in that jail!
Not in a room, or near a roof.
I do not like spam with hoofs!
"I do not like my spam baked!
Or even with some vanilla cake!
I do not like it spiced with fat.
Or laced with salt! Forget that!
I do not like it warm or cold.
Or even like it new or old."
Grabbed a drink, a peach-cobbler smoothie.
I saw a blue colored fish, playing a band-fill
And green spittle flew, from his land-fill.
"I do not like Mos Eisley spam.
I do not like it with red jam.
I do not like it in a car.
I do not like them in the bar.
For the last time! I say it loud.
I do not like the spam, and shout it proud!"
I was shocked to hear such angry verbs.
From such a livid fish, with livid words.
A dark look upon his face, and I was told.
This fish would not be so easily sold.
"Do you like spam in the day?
Or how about upon a bail of hay?
In a dish? Near a moat?
How about some spam, in a boat?
A mottled face, such as yours
Truly likes spam on all fours!"
The fish was mad - oh he was pizzed!
he threw the bandfill down, he was so miffed!
Came at me and pushed a finger to my chest.
It pushed me back, he pushed so fast!
"I do not like spam in the day!
Nor upon a bail of hay!
Bah! In a dish or near a moat!
I do not even want it in a boat!
I don't like spam on all fours!
No leave before I hit the floor!"
What one does not like his spam, I muttered.
And tried to find some in the cubbard.
I found a can, sealed up tightly
When he pulled his fists up, ready to fight me!
"Do you like it boiled or fried?
Sauced up nicely, or maybe dried?
With bivoli stew or rancor ale?
Spam is nice when you're in jail!
In a room, or on a roof?
Surely you like spam with hoofs!"
That fish smacked me down with sudden force
And did much damage with no remorse!
My blackened eye peered at the man.
Who was ranting as only a fish can!
"I do not like it boiled or fried!
With sauce or even dried!
Bivoli stew or rancor ale
And You'll be sitting in that jail!
Not in a room, or near a roof.
I do not like spam with hoofs!"
An Officer showed up in white.
to watch over this silly fight.
No more hitting - I'll take you in!
Do not make me say it again!
"I hear you do not like your spam baked!
Do you like it with some cake?
How about spiced with bantha fat?
Or laced salt, how about that?
Do you like your spam done cold?
Or how about spam, a day old?"
The white one started on the fish
Amazed anyone could not like the dish
Rankin stood in disbelief.
Wasn't anyone to give him relief!
"I do not like my spam baked!
Or even with some vanilla cake!
I do not like it spiced with fat.
Or laced with salt! Forget that!
I do not like it warm or cold.
Or even like it new or old."
Seeing my face, they took him in.
And I hear he is still rantin' sin.
Crying about his hate for spam.
No one knew how he was damned.
"I do not like Mos Eisley spam.
I do not like it with red jam.
I do not like it in a car.
I do not like them in the bar.
For the last time! I say it loud.
I do not like the spam, and shout it proud!
I do not like spam in the day!
Nor upon a bail of hay!
Bah! In a dish or near a moat!
I do not even want it in a boat!
I don't like spam on all fours!
No leave before I hit the floor!
I do not like it boiled or fried!
With sauce or even dried!
Bivoli stew or rancor ale
And You'll be sitting in that jail!
Not in a room, or near a roof.
I do not like spam with hoofs!
"I do not like my spam baked!
Or even with some vanilla cake!
I do not like it spiced with fat.
Or laced with salt! Forget that!
I do not like it warm or cold.
Or even like it new or old."
I like it. I see Rankin spouting that in a few more weeks of random SWG playing. :lol:
