Trash Talk


Nothing catches trash talk
Like the trade winds
Blowing across the Virgin Isles.

There a man can feel husky
And express himself
In the most masculine manner.

Ullmont was feeling his oats,
Having won three of the last four holes
In his friendly match with Mr. Ambrose.

Ullmont also sensed a chance,
A chance to take some money
From the esteemed Government Secretary.

So Ullmont did what athletes do,
He chugged a Borden’s Hemo sports drink
Looked to the can and belched a most distracting burp.

Mr. Ambrose looked to Ullmont,
“Was that necessary?”
He asked with colonial attitude.

“No, but it distracted you enough.
You’ll miss that putt,
I’ll put a fiver on it.”

Mr. Ambrose took the bet
And as he surveyed the green
He found his line.

Before Mr. Ambrose could address the ball,
Ullmont took another healthy swig
And rattled off another burp.

This one only got a shake of the head
And as the normally calm Mr. Ambrose struck the ball
He knew a fiver was leaving his wallet.

Ullmont took the cash
Wanting to thank the Borden’s company
For conjuring up such a superior sporting aid.


Photo Credit: Google Images

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