Chips Poem by Stanley Cooper

Chips are found on a hostile one’s shoulder
When very irate, they’re large as a boulder
Also spotted in a golfer’s short swing
We see they’re around most any old thing

Gamblers amass and stack chips up high
Would love to stack them up to the sky
Deliciously eaten, these slivers of spud
Contentedly chewed much as cows chew their cud

The English delight, fulfilling their wishes
Devouring chips with their dishes of fishes
The Colonies import this unique tasty morsel
Chips are delicious with fins and with dorsal

We’ve given these tips on the subject at hand
The subject is chips, you by now understand
The history of chips goes way back in time
But do chips deserve to be put into rhyme?