In Praise Of The Potato Poem by Kevin Patrick II

Its the Royalty of Nightshade
natures swiss army vegetable
Mined from the mountains of Peru
Divinely, sweet, Delectable


From boyhood its been a staple
A cusine for hungry winners
I could eat them 8 days a week
For breakfast, lunch and dinner

Freshly baked in melted butter
Or golden scallops, finely sliced
Yet there's nothing like them mashed
In white peaks of savoury heights

But the church of all my comforts
Are those crispy gems called French fries
The tastiest and most scrumptious
That leaves my stomach baptized



Oh, there is nothing like this Tuber!
That leaves my tastebuds in afterglow
Eden might have had its apple
But it never had a potato