Oh spread of spreads, on toast arrayed, with butter under cloak,
Each morsel of thee I consume, my taste buds to evoke.
Should I ascend to Elysium, my soul forever roam,
I'd plead for Vegemite’s delight, 'bove in my celestial home.
So mortals, hoist your spoons aloft, and gods, look kindly down,
On this transcendent, savory fare, that doth your heirlooms crown.
For Vegemite belongs not to the realm where men do bide,
But 'pon Olympus' banquet hall, right by ambrosia's side.