By D. Bob Sauer
Welcome to my column this time.
I decided to make this one rhyme.
If it does not appeal,
Make you giggle or squeal,
Tough beans––I don’t care, slap a mime.
The point of this schtick is not pities
For those living in valley cities.
You can’t help where you’re from
Could be homeless for some.
It’s just Dangerous Bob’s May ditties.
Living in the Fox Cities is trippy
Especially for all us ex-hippies.
If you think you see trails
When it rains or it hails,
It’s only Yellow Sunshine from the sixties.
A guy named Sid from Li’l Chute
Wanted music so he bought a flute.
He inhaled instead.
So ”It’s stuck,” he said.
Now he toots with a sneeze or a poot.
Darboy is home to ol’ Chuck
Who apparently ran out of luck.
Turned wrong on CB.
Hit a gigundous tree.
A round-a-bout right here––what the ****?
The bluejays all fly to Menasha
Where bird feeders don’t offer sasha.
So for whisky or bitters
Walk right into Jitters,
And get a Leinies chaser––ya hafta.
Appleton’s mayor is Tim.
Ran for office they say on a whim.
He’s been there so long
They wrote him a song.
“You’ll need eleven more verses,” said him.
A paper mill is hot like a sauna
But so is my new girlfriend Donna.
With both of us thinkin,’
We should kiss where it’s stinkin,’
We parked and smooched in Kaukauna.
We have villes, Mack, Horton, and Green
On the outskirts or so it would seem.
When they go into town,
They can’t help but frown.
“Pay to park? What the hell?” they scream.
We Neenah alums are all Rockets.
But just like electrical sockets,
If it’s not in far enough
There’s no juice for your stuff.
You’ll have to find love in your pockets.
Our big mall lies in Grand Chute.
All the maidens who work there are cute.
But the strip club is gone
So the dancers are drawn
To Waupaca to jiggle their fruit.
The Locks are combined down river.
Don’t walk on the planks ’cuz they sliver.
If you golf by the falls
You might lose your balls.
Just hold them tight and don’t quiver.
Next Issue: Arlo’s Hot Dog Stand: Cialis’ Restaurant