The color of mud,
they live underground.
Only coming up
when they want to be found.
Oh, woe is me,
a mere farmer,
that I produce
a product as ugly as me.
It can't help its
oblong nature,
bland taste
or simple denature.
‘Tis but a spud
of different types,
colors, and shapes,
yet still manages to have a bud.
A simple starch,
that much is known,
but when added to things,
it brings in a life all its own.
