The daikon radish is known to be demure
The noble jicama has a heart that’s pure
But at the thought of tomatillo--    collective sigh
Down in the root cellar the potatoes have eyes
 
Baby radishes and fingerling potatoes
Are still root vegetables –not tomatoes 
The carrot thinks it’s cool to live under ground
But only tomatillos know how to “get around”
 
 
 
She is not a sweet potato
She is not a yam
Little tomatillo- she won’t keep
Maybe rutabagas were meant to last
But little tomatillo was meant to be a blast
 
Come down to the farm stand I’ll tell you toots
Some onion’s ain’t chives -they are roots
Out in North Plains, things get real
I’m down with the sugar beets, smiling beneath the fields
 
Kohlrabi sits quietly in a bin
Parnsips wait patiently, then wait again
Ain’t no telling where tomatillos can go
Up to Walla Walla where the sweet onions grow