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.