You'll never get a single dud
When you are cooking with a spud.
I defy the plainest fool
To fix 'em so I will not drool.
Fried as chips, there's no debate –
You cannot not exaggerate
Their texture, flavor, ease of heft,
Whether bagged or whether cheffed.
Sitting through a football game
Without a bag would be a shame.
Wakes and weddings, or no reason –
They are never out of season.
I'll dip mine in anything
From sour cream to cotton string.
They are one snack that's excluded
From the junk that gets extruded.
Peerless, pure, potato chip –
I'll salt you with tears that drip
Down my flabby cheeks so quiet –
You're not included on my diet!
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