Sunlit morning, without warning,
Smiling over strains of Bjork,
There was Marsette, mind bizarre set,
Whispering--yes, whispering--"Pork!"

Ben, he giggled while he wriggled,
Reeled at Marty's resembling Mork.
To his roommate, tempting doom, fate,
He answered by inquiring, "Pork?"

Looking pallid, 'tween them salad,
Ben and Marty, they popped a cork
And told stories of the glories
Of tongues bouncing, pronouncing, "Pork!"

They had found it. In its sound it
Revolved their tongues, exhib'ting torque.
'Twould absurd be! Could this word be
The funniest and best? Yeah, "Pork"!

One year later, distance greater,
Marty received mail from New York.
He could snack-dredge through this package:
'Twas Shake-n-Bake, labeled just "Pork".

And then Ben called; Marty, enthralled,
Gave to Ben a plate and a fork.
And he served him tender, curved ham,
A walloping helping of pork!

Marty, intent, then did invent
A robot fish powered by quark.
Circuits inside fire off in stride
And the fish mouth, it utters, "Pork!"

Ben, though tested, was not bested!
He contracted with a cheap stork
To deliver--now ye shiver!--
Eighty postcards, each saying "Pork!"

Are our friends caught? This yarn ends not
By saying how they escaped pork.
Instead it touts full gleeful shouts
Of splendid and beautiful "Pork!"