Three poets - an Indian, an Englishman, and an American - arrive at the gates
 of heaven at the same time wanting to get in. St. Peter explains to them that
 heaven is pretty much filled up with poets, at the moment, and he is
 authorized only to take in one of the three. He devises a poetry competition,
 giving each poet 15 minutes to create a short poem incorporating "Timbuktu" in
 the verse... May the best poet win!

 St. Peter returns after several minutes and asks the Indian poet to recite
 first.

 Indian Poet: Once while in a foreign land,
              I dreamed I crossed the burning sand.
              An oasis appeared, when close I drew,
              I found I was in Timbuktu.

 "Lovely!" says St. Peter. "And now the Englishman."

 English Poet: Of all the cities I have been
               (And I have been to quite a few),
               There is no finer place I've seen
               Whose beauty rivals Timbuktu.

 "Very Nice!" says St. Peter. "And now the American."

 American Poet: Tim and I a-camping went.
                We spied three women in a tent.
                And lo, before the night was through,
                I bucked one, and Tim bucked two!

 St. Peter says, "Bravo! We have a winner!"