Here's an old joke based on a quote from Shakespeare which I turned into a very bad poem.

AUSTRALIA

In a single seater airplane across the sky he flew,
Over vast Australia, enamored by the view,
But, sad to state, the plane it crashed, and from the wreck he crawled,
And gathering up what he could save, he sat awhile and bawled.

Then setting forth on foot to find some succour and some aid,
Across the burning sand he strode. A desolate sight he made.
The sun it seemed it hotter got. His water it diminished.
By the time the sun it had gone down, he thought that he was finished.

But crawling through the dawn's cold light, a signpost banged his head.
It pointed to Mercy Town which lay two miles ahead.
He willed his failing body on into this one-horse town,
And at the other end of it was an arrow pointing down.

"Bar" it said, so there he went and enquired for a drink,
But the story that he then heard, well, it made him stop and think,
For the beer and lager had run out. No spirits could be had,
And all the drinking water there had recently gone bad.

"What have you got?" the pilot cried. "I've got to have a brew."
The barman took a bottle down. From it the dust he blew.
"A local concoction made," he said, "by a local aborigine
From koala bears and local herbs—a drink that they call tea."

The barman handed him a glass and from the bottle poured,
And lumps of green and rotting flesh into his glass sprung forth.
"I can't drink that!" the pilot said. "Why don't you serve it strained?"
To which the barman then replied: "the koala tea of mercy is not strained."

HTML line breaks added --JoeClone, 29-Sep-01.