clam caravan

i ride cross the desert on my camel, over hills of sand, what's that, i see in the distance?, only hills of sand, there is no oasis in sight, i'll have to ride through the night, if i'm to make baghdad by light of dawn, the sun's not your friend in the desert, like he is at home, the wind has a name in the desert, sirocco, but it's barely known, it's only the hardiest bloom, that can blossom in darkest khartoum, so i will just stay in my room, tonight, the desert isn't free with her secrets, she's a silent bird, quiet bird, i asked the sphinx for the answer, it said, "mums the word", so i'll catch the zanzibar train, and sleep till i'm wakened by rain, and i'm back in old england again once more