Are potatoes better mashed or whole?

It depends on if they have a soul

On whether they have dreams or not

And if they scream when boiling hot

For man that ever feral prat

Can never get enough of that

The cries of things as we consume

The fearful look as we enter room

I think if the spuds they do not feel

Then they cannot be considered real

But if, in truth, they know there plight

Then they will feed mans great delight

Yet for myself I cannot say

If I would eat them anyway

For while their cries would haunt my head

Mashed spuds and gravy might be worth them dead