Poem #38: Potatoes

I came across a website where you can submit poems and they put them up, as long as they're Tolkien-related. Which, I need not say, is awesome, so I gave it a try.

This is Sam Gamgee teaching his daughter how to cook PO TA TOES.

Elanor, my pretty lass,

come here to your Daddy.

Mother's feeling poor today, 

bent and worn and shaddy. 

Supper is on us tonight, 

stew I think we'll make it. 

Pull out those potatoes, love, 

I'll bring Mum a blanket. 

Taters by your Daddy are

the best in all the Shire. 

Come, I'll show you how to proper

stew them over fire. 

Take your knife, now mind your fingers,

shave the dirty skin.

Now we have the pretty white

potato from within. 

Chop it into little pieces, 

not too big, nor small. 

In the pot they go with mutton, 

vittles, herbs and all. 

Now we wait and rest a moment

while our taters brew. 

Then, when all our waiting's up,

we'll have a lovely stew. 

Scoop a little in the bowl, 

careful with the ladle!

Bring some to your Mother now,

and mind your brother's cradle. 

Have some stew yourself, now lass, 

we've worked hard today. 

Being mother isn't easy, 

even for a day.