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Lyrics
[Verse 1]
My granny said, “Darlin’, keep your eyes on the tub”
When the rain ate the field and the pockets went nub
We had one sack left and a stove on the blink
So we fried it, we boiled it, we didn’t quite think
[Verse 2]
Mash it with butter, smash it with salt
Throw it in a pie if the day goes to halt
Slice it for supper, dice it for tea
If you’re out of ideas, make three more, not one, maybe three
[Pre-Chorus]
Boil it, roast it, mash it, swear
Grate it, fry it, stack it there
If the cupboard looks grim and the purse looks mean
Well, one good spud can save the scene
[Chorus]
Potato, potato, pass it around
Potato, potato, that’s Irish sound
Boil it, bake it, give me the crown
Potato, potato, we’ll all dig down
(Spud, spud)
(Spud, spud)
[Verse 3]
We made chips on Monday, champ on Wednesday too
Dublin coddle got a tater or two
Colcannon in the collar, boxty on the griddle
And a potato farl for the morning middle
[Verse 4]
There’s stew with a tuber, there’s soup with a plume
There’s salad when somebody tries to act refined in the room
If famine came calling, we answered with flair
Turned one sad spud into a five-course affair
[Pre-Chorus]
Boil it, roast it, mash it, swear
Grate it, fry it, stack it there
If the cupboard looks grim and the purse looks mean
Well, one good spud can save the scene
[Chorus]
Potato, potato, pass it around
Potato, potato, that’s Irish sound
Boil it, bake it, give me the crown
Potato, potato, we’ll all dig down
(Spud, spud)
(Spud, spud)
[Bridge]
Now some folk laugh, but they don’t know the strain
When the sky turns mean and the fields take rain
So we toast to the patch, to the dirt, to the root
And we dance with the day in a potato suit
[Final Chorus]
Potato, potato, pass it around
Potato, potato, that’s Irish sound
Boil it, bake it, give me the crown
Potato, potato, we’ll all dig down
Potato, potato, hear the crowd
Potato, potato, sing it loud
(Spud, spud)
(Spud, spud)
Details
GeneratedAug 1, 2026
Duration3:12
LanguageEnglish
Style
Irish pub folk with uptempo stomps and handclaps, brisk reel-like bounce, fiddle and accordion driving the verses; pre-chorus strips to foot-stomps and shouted counts, chorus lands with gang claps, bodhrán hits, and a big singalong chant. Female vocals with gritty lead, stacked pub harmonies, call-and-response ad-libs, and cheeky spoken turns. Tin whistle runs, bar-room reverb swells, and a final lift with extra percussion. Bright, rowdy, and warmly punchy., uptempo, female vocals
Credits
Prompt by
Brigids_Hearth
Brigids_HearthModelAria v5.5
Prompt
Uptempo comedic Irish tale of potatoes, grounding jokes in the Irish potato famine, and joking about how many different ways & recipes the Irish eat potatoes. Female vocals, pub energy, stomps, claps
