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St. Tater Tot
by Gregory R SchelskeOn St. Patrick's Day one soggy March
our potato farm lost its starch
a year's supply of spuds we stashed
became a year's supply of potatoes mashed
Father McCree, a man of zeal
prayed a prayer of heavenly appeal
and this is what the good priest said,
what we have is neither lost nor dead
Your spuds, it seems, I heard him utter
could use some salt and a touch of butter
let's shape this mush into bite-size dots
and pack them up as tater-tots.
03/08/2007 Author's Note: Written for the St. Patrick's Day Limrick Contest
Posted on 03/08/2007
Copyright © 2025 Gregory R Schelske
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Dave Fitzgerald on 03/08/07 at 08:20 PM Another cracking write :) |
| Posted by Dave Fitzgerald on 03/08/07 at 08:20 PM Another cracking write :) |
| Posted by Jeffrey Parren on 03/08/07 at 09:51 PM Very good write! I giggled. ~JPP |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/08/07 at 11:26 PM Very fun! |
| Posted by Jean Mollett on 03/10/07 at 08:10 AM Hi Duke,
This is cute and funny. Great write. Hee! Hee!
Hey, them there tater-tots, are mighty tastey too. :) |
| Posted by Jennifer Ragan on 04/02/07 at 11:40 PM I like your sense of humor:) Funny stuff! |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 07/23/08 at 04:22 PM love it! the ending is priceless! |
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