As I Paddled the River Nile

As I paddled the river Nile I met a monstrous crocodile. She smiled at me enticingly. I smiled deferentially. Through large white teeth to me she said, "I want you in my river bed." "We are not acquainted enough for such intimate, tasteless stuff," I cried. A hippopotamus opined, "Hey, we're amphibious. We're inclined to romp through marshes; come, let's crush some reedy rushes." I paddled hard away. The Nile now swirled by rapidly awhile to the sea. There where its two brinks grow apart it flows past a sphinx who lies prone and thinks endlessly deep thoughts about eternity. For eons and eons his mind thought thoughts about how to unbind gravity from mentality throughout universality, that we might freely float; no more need to paddle my boat. Unfortunately, he has no gumption to follow his least assumption; but we do chat on fluently of, to wit, stuff way beyond me like hieroglyphic-ally writ papyri. When he will not quit I wander alone to a tomb where lies Cleopatra, of whom each schoolgirl knows; how her last gasp came as she clasped to breast her asp. Grasp that story's significance twixt geometry class and dance. Whilst she patronymic-ally reigned, a most royal Ptolemy; she told Marc, "My new last 'nym' now'll be 'Anthony'." This, post her roll out, quite nude, from Julius' rug. His offer of sex met her mere shrug. I stood amid a pyramid or three and pondered where they hid, these pharaohs, all their treasury. Was power or mere pleasury their true architectural plan? To ever tell, no pharaoh can. These writs I write as my boat drifts midst original hieroglyphs through the Mediterranean. I don't need a librarian to see, no sociology compares to Egyptology.