Lyrics
(Intro)
You know, I'm a farmer, and I grow potatoes
Them 'taters, man, they're really cool, and quite nutritious, don't you know?
Check it out
(Verse 1)
We plant 'taters, watch them sprout, and then we hill 'em up the dirt
I tend 'em day through night—you'd better know they work our backs and arms so hard!
Big ones, little ones, purple ones, some really strange,
From Red Norlands to Fingerlings growing in our gardens' heart
(Chorus 1)
Growing the sweet 'taters high in vitamin C,
Ain't got no room for scabs, rust, bugs that damage me,
Watching those leaves so green in the sun
Them 'taters gonna rock, so let's boil and have some fun
(Refrain 1)
Watching those leaves so green in the sun
Them 'taters gonna rock, so let's boil and have some fun
(Verse 2)
The Yukon Golds look like sunshines bright, man
Shining brilliant in that pot of water, steaming on the stove
Those German Butterballs, as round as golden moons,
Smashed with butter and salt, they melt straight down in your soul
(Chorus 2)
From Kennebecs right down to that Adirondack Blue
All boiled up in a pot, they'll get that potato lovin' from you
Watch these starches boiling, cooking in that pot
Baking, roasting, or boiling, man those 'taters really hit the spot.
cooking in that pot
Baking, roasting, or boiling, man those 'taters really hit the spot.
(Refrain 2)
Watch those creamy spuds filling up the pot
Baking, roasting, or boiling, man those 'taters really hit the spot.
(Verse 3)
Russets in the oven fill your home with mouth-watering smells,
Crispy golden skin on that perfectly baked lump,
Sizzling on the griddle, with some butter dipped,
That fried-up taste, it can't get no better when they're from home-grown spuds
(Chorus 3)
Those spuds they call dinner time, I've got makng french fries mastered,
Them 'taters aren't for vodka, unless you plan on getting plastered
Ain't got no room for scabs, that keep my growing slow,
From Fingerlings right down to that blue and purple roastin' show,
that blue and purple roastin' show,
Bridge)
With our hearts aligned, eyes downs straight towards the ground,
We gather the fruits grown so that none's left around,
From rust to bugs we beat 'em with our ploy
Harvester in hand we pull those goldens straight home for some joy.
(Chorus 4)
Red Norlands chopped and oiled roasting in the pan, I betcha,
Ain't going to stop 'til our 'taters filled with every spice they can fetch ya.
'Tater time's a party round town, rock you, man bake them, fry or steam,
Just let your fantasy run wild with spuds dressed to look like an alpine dream.
....... Oven roasted, butter churning, grate'm down with cheese
Salt n' pepper 'em, put 'em on a grill just like a honey bee
Fingerlings wrapped up in a blanket with a fried up egg on top,
Let's dig those potatoes from that garden, 'cause we just can't bear to stop!
(Outro)
From potato plant them 'taters to that table served with joy,
Makin' meal time filled with cheer and hope for humble peasant boys.
