Taytogate

Taytogate twenty twenty five,
Irish mammies called far and wide.
What started as murmurs, as whispers,
quickly became a roar among sisters.

Tayto, from our hallowed golden spuds,
prized like gold by Irish bloods,
usually squirreled in hand luggage, smashed to dust,
the currency of comfort, like a hug we trust.

Suddenly, out of the blue, whispers began,
news quickly grew across the land.
Tayto, GLORIOUS TAYTO, have graced the shelves,
as if mischievous sídhe had crossed the oceans themselves.

Misty winter mornings roll from Bluff to Cape Reinga’s first light,
across Auckland city lanes and Waitaki valleys’ last goodnight.
Settling at dawn on Kaipara’s misty hills,
Kaukapakapa kids with Tayto-fueled thrills.
Cheese and oniony tangy breath mists the frosty air,
as rugby fields and netball courts wake to crisp-crunching care.

What’s usually flu season in cold Kiwi July
will go down in history for reasons awry.
For the Irish diaspora who found comfort in each bite,
with Tayto calling like pipes through the night.

We would like to thank Reduced to Clear NZ, for spreading the Tayto love around NZ, and your social media team are amazing!