July 11, 2011
Lord Byron arrives in Heaven, and finds his old friend Shelley waiting at the gate.

"Percy, I can't believe it. You died two years ago. Why aren't you inside?"

"St. Peter says he's already got too many poets," says Shelley. "So I've been waiting here for you. Maybe together, we can convince him to let us in."

When St. Peter appears, he greets Byron by name. "You two have both been naughty," he says, "and I've already told your friend here that we're pretty full. We've only got room for one of you, so I'm asking you each to write a verse for me about one of my favorite places...Timbuktu. I'll be back in an hour to see what you've come up with."

When St. Peter returns, Shelley proudly recites his poem:
With feet upon the burning sand
I gazed upon the promised land
And in the far-off distant view
The paradise of Timbuktu.
"Very nice," says St. Peter. And then, turning to Byron, he says, "Your turn, sir."

With a wink to his friend, Byron begins:
Tim and I a-hunting went
And spied three maidens in a tent
As they were three, and we were two,
I bucked one, and Timbuktu.
via "The Big Book of American Humor", a huge formative influence on me in high school.
Weirdly a much inferior version with Shakespeare, Burns, and spelling and grammar mistakes seems to be much more popular online.
I think outside the filogon (that's a shape I just made up)

If you invite me to a pot luck, I have to warn you: I make a mean potato salad! Seriously, I have to warn you. There's a court order.