Harold Winslow

Potatoes Poem

These are my thoughts re: the pomme de terre

I very much hope you see that they are fair

If they be russ, I won't make a fuss

If they be gold, I'll eat them day-old

If they be sweet, 'twould be a great treat

For me to lick them off your feet

Hashbrowns are fine if they be yours

But they are divine if they be mine

Mashed I eat with particular zest

Even if it's not a day of fest

When it's fries I find

They fill my mind

And when it's chips instead

They consume my head

Latkes are a Jewish fad

But I must admit they are not bad

Being as they are a way potatoes can be had

Baked is good if I am too

But truthfully I would prefer a stew

With butter is best

For with my fork I make a nest,

A place for that

Yellow pad to rest

Sour cream is also good

Even fatties eat it, should

Add some salt to your delight

And you will find, sans a fright

That upon your tongue

A sizzle does run

And nothing else

Will induce such fun

When bacon bits are sprinkled upon

I can't help but notice how it beats udon

A lad protests that bread is best

But when push comes to shove,

Who wants to eat like a dove?

A young girl says that rice is nice

But how can she tell she's not eating lice?

A father, overweight, says there's no carbs he'll eat

But screw him, the fat head-meat

This is why, for every meal

I eat potatoes with great zeal

I'd like a partner to help me eat them all

Because I need to get fat before the Fall

No, it's not Autumn I mean

But rather the time when the devil greets us all

In such a time all will be lean

Bank accounts, farmer's fields, and all in between

Other's stomachs will growl

While I let out a cackle, a howl

A deep hearty laugh from my starch-laden tum

A king I will be, surrounded by yams - yum yum

And so, my friend,

I offer you a diet,

One made of tubers most wholesome

Join me, that I be not on my lonesome.