Ode to the Spud

It’s got lots of small eyes, that is true
But don’t count on it watching telly with you
And it does wear a jacket, yes
But you won’t meet it as a dinner guest.
Knobbly, mud-spattered underground lump
It’ not a mole, earthworm or silly chump;
It’s not a rapscallion, a creep, or a dud-
It’s the average homely brown spud!
It won’t help you with your daily chores
Wash the dishes, or mop the floors.
But if you’re hungry for a tasty meal
The humble potato is the real deal!
It won’t mow the lawn or run the strimmer
But it will squish, crisp, sauté and simmer.
Roast, bake, chip, mash, boil,
Even deep fry with herbs in olive oil.
So when next your stomach angrily rumbles
It’s the tatie to the rescue with no grumbles!

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