I have doubts on sprouts
But peas they please
And parsnips give me pleasure
But of all the veg
I give this pledge
Potatoes are my treasure;
Chipped or baked
Or mashed or boiled
Tossed in a pan when gently oiled
The common spud is really great
A must on every dinner plate.

Cometh the meal, cometh the hour
Some folk favour the cauliflower
Parsnip, turnip, marrow, swede
All have their place when we need to feed
But whilst all have their turn
And some need to wait
The veggie that's certain on every plate
Watering the mouth, exciting taste buds
The humble, the versatile, ubiquitous spuds.

They may not be pretty
They may have no sheen
No carroty orange, no broccoli green
No cabbagey colours of reds, greens or whites
No beetrooty purple - all fanciful sights
But for full satisfaction
For all-round delight
For full English breakfasts or suppers at night
For buffets or banquets
Fast food or set lunch
The potato is king
The best of the bunch.

© by Nick Balmforth.
Used with the author’s permission.