Potato Chips

Golden fried, thin yet wide

Crunchy to the core

Potato soul, eat 'em whole

Flavoured to perfection

In silvered sacs, cause heart-attacks

Yet loved by nearly all

O potato chips, with or without the dips

The food of kings and beggars

O potato chips, passing through our lips

What would we not do for you

Metapoem 1.1

This poem is pretty comic

You will like it just fine

Only problem is though

The poem isn't mine

I made Kerwin write it

He's doing it right now

I don't know what it's about

Perhaps a purple cow

He has finished it completely

Just passed it on to me

This is the second last line

We both have iced tea