We’re Short of Potatoes This Christmas

We’re short of potatoes this Christmas,
It’s rained and the harvests are low,
All over the town,
The shelves are run down,
If you want them there’s nowhere to go.

We’re short of potatoes this Christmas,
And everywhere seems out of stock
I’ve tried Just Eat and Uber;
There’s no trace of a tuber,
And the scandal’s all over TikTok.

We’re short of potatoes this Christmas,
And I’m feeling as glum as can be,
I’d honestly die for
A crisp Maris Piper,
But the forecast says it’s not to be.

Yes, we’re short of potatoes this Christmas,
And meanwhile the health-freaks rejoice:
They say lots of tatties
Will make us all fatties
But I’d rather be given the choice.

They say, ‘Scrap potatoes this Christmas!
Embrace some root veggies instead!’
But I’m not one to shout
About parsnips and sprouts:
Their side-effects fill me with dread.

So I dream of potatoes at Christmas,
And I know how I just like mine done:
I won’t make a racket
‘Bout boiled, mashed or jacket –
The crispy roast tat is the one.

Yes I dream of my roasties this Christmas
All snug in their roasting tray sat,
And a nice glass of fizz’ll
Accompany the sizzle
Of them crisping in hot goose’s fat.

Now I’m stockpiling tatties this Christmas,
And the thing that will make my heart sing
Is the delicate thud
Of ten big bags of spuds
In my trolley at Lidl’s, first thing.

So let’s honour the humble potato,
Let’s worship its floury aplomb.
Be it shoot, eye or skin,
The roastie’s the thing
And Christmas without them is wrong.