The Figs of Cherchell

By Robert James DeBurgh (Poet)

O! Lucious fruit!
That falleth from the trees at Cherchell.
Like unto the benefits of Heaven art thou,
Fallen on me, a sinning brute of Hell!

How oft! How oft have I, while in darkness walking,
Stepped on the fallen fruit, and
Splashed the murky juice on my suit
Trousers.
Like there to the wandering Soul Of Man who,
In the darkness of Ignorance and SIN
Squashes the Fruits of Heaven's Grace
By his faux pas, by putting his foot in it, and his
Trousers.
Those strewn figs, leaving them fit for pigs,
If pigs there were here in Algeria.
I fear you won't find too many, well
That's Cherchelll, where I have my digs.
Tread softly when you tread in figs.

Cherchell North Africa 1896

NOTES ON PROVENANCE:
This Work was recently discovered by Hadji Muammar bin Tijani, who found it stuffed into a crack in the wall of the Old Roman Coliseum at Cherchell.