"The Desert Liner."

The joys of camel riding are
A mythical delusion;
You do not need a second ride
To come to this conclusion.

Agility one must possess
To gain the seat ere rising,
Or headlong to the ground you'll go,
In manner most surprising.

Perched mountains high you bump along,
Your comfort growing lesser,
With vision of your next week's meals
Served on the kitchen dresser.

When you have gone a mile or two
You need a Begg's and Soda
To fortify yourself against
The beast's obnoxious odour.

With savage glare it looks around,
As if it were in trouble,
Then bends its head back to your knees
And blows its "hubble-bubble."

Up hills and down, or on the flat,
That is, if it's been raining,
It slides and slips, then does the splits,
A sorry sight remaining.

It takes long drinks once in four days,
The reason's not surprising:
It's got the hump, and downs the lump
That in its throat keeps rising.

"Ship of the Desert"—humping loads—
As such it's recommended;
But as a beast to ride, I'm sure,
It never was intended.

Palestine. "Bush Hawk."