This is the land of the poet Khayyam,
The home of the camel, the rug and the goat;
But it's also the home of some things which I am
Amazed the old roue reglected to note.

For its also the home of the jig-jig girl,
The crab, the louse, the water you berl,
Elephantiasis, dung on the street,
And the armor-piercing spirochete.

Strange that O.K. didn't write, when he wrote,
Of the Persian penchant for fricasseed goat;
And he also neglected to give us the dope
On the Persian aversion for what we call soap.

And its not made clear in the Rubiyat
That standard plumbing for home or flat
Is a hole in the floor, plus a brass water pitcher
(One hole if you're poor -- maybe two if you're richer.)

Omar didn't warn us, and now it's too late,
That the genuine, antique, silver plate
Had been, until a most recent date,
The front hub-cap of a Pontiac-8.

Yes, this is the land of Khayyam, but g--damit
I wish to express just how glad that I am it
Ain't mine, Omar lad, it's all yours, I don't love it --
And with all due respect, you may take it and s---- it!
Persia, WWII.