The Troupers' Balls - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Wisconsin, well known for its cheese
(and in the winter folks do freeze) ,
is also home to womenfolk
who tell a mean erotic joke,
most of the maidens carry much
in solidarity as such
to bovine friends, two shapely bumps
(the sight will melt the fiercest grumps) .
One day, the sun was kissing grasses
and (somewhat speckled) Holstein asses,
when teacher Zelda went to town
in a light pink, revealing gown.
The forecast had been for some flurries
and Zelda always frets and hurries,
so it was really no surprise
that local trooper's eagle eyes
detected her just as she slid
around the turn right where he hid.
Zelda was blond and, for a fact
quite handsome and extremely stacked,
she pulled, as ordered to the side
with eight foot ditches as her guide.
'You are', she whispered, ' handing me
what must, (you see, I guessed it) , be
the ticket to the Troupers' Ball
Wisconsin's Pride, held in the Fall.'
'Oh no', the officer declared
as he took out and then prepared
the book containing many blanks
of papers rarely getting thanks.
'Wisconsin Cops use protocols
but are not known for having balls.'
A sudden silence had descended
the trouper left, that's how it ended.
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