First you plant potatoes,
Buried in a little hill,Water as you ought’a,
And you let ‘em grow until,
September come around,
And now you dig ‘em out the ground
Eat the big’uns, put the lit’luns,
In a sturdy paper bag,
Save ‘em in yer basement,
or your cool garage until,
After frostime in the spring time,
Bury in a little hill …
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