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Capo 2nd fret G How can you do it? It's heartless, it's cruel, D7 G It's murder, cold-blooded, and gross. To slay a poor vegetable just for your stew, A7 D7 Or to serve with some cheese sauce on toast. G Have you no decency? Have you no shame? D7 G Have you no conscience, you cad? C G E7 To rip that poor vegetable out of the earth, A7 D7 Away from its poor mom and dad? G Oh, no, don't slay that potato! D7 Let us be merciful, please. G Em Don't boil it or fry it, don't even freeze-dry it. A7 D7 Don't slice it or flake it, for God's sake, don't bake it! G Don't shed the poor blood of this poor helpless spud, C That's the worst kind of thing you could do. G Em Oh, no, don't slay that potato, A7 D7 G What never done nothing to you!
Why not try picking on something your size,
Instead of some carrot or bean?
The peas are all trembling there in their pod,
Just because you're so vicious and mean.
How would you like to be grabbed by your hair,
And ruthlessly yanked from your bed,
And have done to you God knows what horrible things,
To be eaten with full-fiber bread?
Oh, no, don't slay that potato!
Let us be merciful, please.
Don't boil it or fry it, don't even freeze-dry it.
Don't slice it or flake it, for God's sake, don't bake it!
Don't shed the poor blood of this poor helpless spud,
That's the worst kind of thing you could do.
Oh, no, don't slay that potato,
What never done nothing to you!
It's no bed of roses, this vegetable life.
You're basically stuck in the mud.
You don't get around much, you don't see the sights,
When you're a carrot or celery or spud.
You're helpless when somebody's flea-bitten dog,
Takes a notion to pause for relief.
Then somebody picks you and cleans you and eats you,
And causes you nothing but grief.
Oh, no, don't slay that potato!
Let us be merciful, please.
Don't boil it or fry it, don't even freeze-dry it.
Don't slice it or flake it, for God's sake, don't bake it!
Don't shed the poor blood of this poor helpless spud,
That's the worst kind of thing you could do.
Oh, no, don't slay that potato,
What never done nothing to you!
There ought to be some way of saving our skins.
They ought to be passing a law.
Just show anybody a cute little lamb,
And they'll all stand around and go, "Aw!"
Well, potatoes are ugly; potatoes are plain.
We're wrinkled and lumpy to boot.
But give me a break, kid, do you mean to say,
That you'll eat us because we're not cute?
Oh, no, don't slay that potato!
Let us be merciful, please.
Don't boil it or fry it, don't even freeze-dry it.
Don't slice it or flake it, for God's sake, don't bake it!
Don't shed the poor blood of this poor helpless spud,
That's the worst kind of thing you could do.
Oh, no, don't slay that potato,
What never done nothing to you!
(Words and music by Tom Paxton, 1983)
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