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In the fields where the green meets the sky, Lies a root, humble, yet sly.
Peeled and sliced, fried or mashed, In every dish, it's the last.
But beware, oh, heed the tale, For the potato, it carries a veil.
Not all are safe, not all are pure, Some hold a poison, a toxic allure.
From the Andes, it traveled afar, A staple food, a culinary star.
But in the shadows, a danger hides, In some, a toxin resides.
So be wise, and choose with care, For the potato's poison, beware.
Green beneath the skin, a warning sign, Toxin lurking, ready to entwine.
In the kitchen, where the magic's spun, Know your source, where it's from.
For a simple spud, with a twist of fate, Can turn a feast into a debate.
So when you dig in the earth's embrace, And find the potato's hidden grace,
Remember the tales of old, Of the spud that carried a deadly hold.
But with knowledge, comes the power, To avoid the potato's darkest hour.
Cook with love, and with skill, Keep the poison at a safe, safe will.
In the end, it's a tale to tell, Of the potato, and its hidden spell.
A food so loved, yet so feared, In every bite, a caution steered.