He didn't know,
don't blame him, he's new.
When you smeared his face with pie
and hit him with a football,
he didn't know you were just saying hi.

He thought you were being mean,
But you were nice.
It was all in good fun,
those projectile fights.

He doesn't know how,
No food to throw.
He thinks it's a hazing...
He doesn't know.

"Poor Tater,"
he thinks.
"Too stupid to fight back."

The Tater is older,
wiser,
He's not a tater no more

He sees a tater in the Square
And teaches him how
To play.