Classic Poem

DRIFTING SANDS and a caravan, the desert's endless space .
Lustrous eyes 'neath Eastern skies, and a woman's veiled face.

Brigands bold on their Arab steeds, trampling all in their wake,
From out of the mystic Eastern lore one page from the book we take.
The sands of time move slowly in the hourglass of life,
But not on the desert's drifting sands, where bloodshed is and strife.
Out from the cruel, lashing sting of the world's merciless hate,
The soul of a man to the desert came to grapple its chance with Fate.
Ruthless, daring, brutal and suave the outer husk became,
But deep down in his innermost heart the man was just the same.
So the drama unfolded for you is set where in days of old
Eastern kings of culture and wealth lay buried in tombs of gold.

Drifting sands and a caravan, the desert's endless space.
Lustrous eyes 'neath Eastern skies, and a woman's veiled face.