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ARGENTINA via APPALACHA

The Palmetto State
Became so hot,
I opted to go hiking.
Preferring a date
Where I was not,
Not walking, neither biking.

So able was I
In days of yore
To win the game of “catch-ya,”
This time, seemed the sky,
Still not too high,
I went for Appalacha.

The media did
Make noise and moan:
“Where is he?” they all sputtered.
But, eas’ly I hid
From mail and phone.
Not one damn clue was muttered.

A great hue and cry
Did rend the air;
My staff was left bewildered.
No soul knew I’d fly
To lady fair;
Down there, its name means “silvered.”

Alas, it was time
To clear the ruse,
Time that the farce were ended—
But, not drop a dime
Or sing the blues,
Lest someone be offended.

Of course, he who tries
To “pull the wool…”
Quite soon is overtaken.
He’ll end up like I,
Become the fool,
His virtues all forsaken.

So, if by chance you
May run a state,
And have a little horse sense,
One thing you must do
Is tell a mate,
Before you start your dalliance.