TATER TALK

January 28, 1999

The big potato; we’ll call him Dad;
Three little girls were all he had,
But came the time for them to wed,
So one by one, hear what they said:

“Mr. Russet wants me to marry,
A load of care I’m glad to carry.”
“Oh, Yes”, said Dad, “indeed that’s great;
With such a name - an ideal mate!”

The second loved an Idaho,
And Papa said, “The way to go!
This marriage indeed will do quite well,
The way Idahos are known to sell.”

Then spoke the third, a tiny child,
With trembling voice, so meek and mild,
“Dan Rather is the man I love;
I’m sure our love’s from God above!”

“Heaven, forbid,” the father cried,
“With such a thought, I’m horrified!
I’ll not agree, now or later;
Dan Rather is a common tater!”

Then quivering lips spoke words profound,
In phrases with a heavenly sound,
“Aren’t we all just common taters,
Trying to be God’s commentators?”