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 thay look like we'll eat them
Any way they can fit on our plate
Every way we can conjure to heat them
We're delighted and think they're just great
PO ta to po ta to po ta to po
ta to po ta to po ta to po ta
to po ta to po ta to po ta to
po ta to po ta to po ta to

Sometimes we ditch the skin
To eat what it's holding in
Sometimes we'd rather please
Have just the outside with cheese
They have eyes but they do not have faces
I don't know if their feelings get hurt
By just hanging around in dark places
Where they only can stare at the dirt
PO ta to po ta to po ta to po
ta to po ta to po ta to po ta
to po ta to po ta to po ta to
po ta to po ta to po ta to

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 and up in Maine
Maybe wondering if they'll be bakers
Or knishes or latkes or plain
PO ta to po ta to po ta to po
ta to po ta to po ta to po ta
to po ta to po ta to po ta to
po ta to po ta to po ta to