Potato

They're red, they're white, they're brown

They get that way underground

There can't be much to do

So now they have blue ones too.

We don't care what they look like, we'll eat them

Any way they can fit on our plate

Any way we can conjure to heat them

We're delighted to think they're just great.

PotaTo potaTo potaTo

Potato Potato Potato Potato

PoTato poTato poTato

PotaTo potaTo potaTo

Sometimes you ditch the skin

To eat what it's holding in

Sometimes you'd rather, please,

Have just the outside with chease.

They have eyes but they do not have faces

I don't know if their feeling get hurt

By just hanging around in dark places

Where they only can stare at the dirt.

PotaTo potaTo potaTo

Potato Potato Potato Potato

PoTato poTato poTato

PotaTo potaTo potaTo

I guess the use is scant

For other parts of the plant

But that which grows in view

Is eating potato too.

I imagine them under their acres

Out in Idaho or up in Maine

They'll be wondering if they'll be bakers

Or new, deep-fried, boiled or plain.

PotaTo potaTo potaTo

Potato Potato Potato Potato

PoTato poTato poTato

PotaTo potaTo

PotaTo potaTo

PotaTo potaTo potaTo.