SOME SPUD

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 11, Issue 71, 25 August 1947, Page 6

SOME SPUD

Old Tom Bright and Billy Ruff, Were fond of tobacco, beer and snuff, They went nightly to the village inn, To puff, sip, sniff and wag the chin, Discussing the topics of the day, Or any subject that came their way, Seed-time and harvest, snow or rain, Were their argumentive domain, Especially when the. time came round, For pulling potatoes underground; Tom Bright would say “take my advice, And never plant a potato twice, Wherever it falls there let it be, More it again and you will see, Taters has eyes -like you and me; But when a potato is left alone, He starts at once out on his own, Then good gracious how he grows, Nothing only goodness knows; My wife’s uncle, old lame Tom, Dropped a spud as he came along, To the place where he meant to sow, He let that spud stay put and grow, And won the first prize at the show; But one of them grew to such a size, ft was too big to get a prize, The length of old Tom’s stick across, A good load for a big draught hoss; But old Tom said, ‘let that spud be, For it grew there to caution me, That spuds are only human too, Just the same as me and you, So take this warning plain to see, When a spud’s once planted let it be.” H. SERGANT.