Death of a Desert Wanderer

The sun was gently shining
through the trees; the night was dim,
and I wandered through the desert,
and I stopped to take a swim.

The grapevines in the small cafe
were dripping blood red wine,
into casks a mile across
which stood in long straight lines.

The waitress took my camel,
brought me a shepherd pie.
I ate it with my canteen lit,
but it was all a lie.

I woke in heav'n; the desert gone.
An angel hovered by.
St. Peter took one look at me;
In desert now again I lie.

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