By Andy Poole
A hot potato lies on my platter,
But tell me now, what is the matter?
All mine catsup hath gone, you say,
Tell me now, what game you play?
|... the pirating sort ...|
So I strapped on dagger and cutter
And chased him down the port
'Till he fell in with the pirating sort!
I stood there defeated, oh how he cheated!
Without catsup no spud is completed.
With sword in hand and coin in my purse,
I hired me bladesmen and sent for a hearse.
We boarded the ship with swords all a-clatter
With parry and lunge we sent them to scatter
We took the ship and descended below
But saw no catsup in the lantern’s glow.
The town watchmen cried out disturbance
And made chains our encumbrance.
We drug them along the march to the dungeon
Herded to our dreary fold by the truncheon.
Locked up in a dungeon so cold
I feared the food ugly and old
Rather the guard served a potato
Heaped with fresh catsup and tomato!
But—alas!—I did not get to eat it
For the mayor unlocked the pit,
Thanking me for ridding him of pirates
While the potato fell to the rats!