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Imagine the feeling, whilst stood in the sun,

With the rays beating down, sounds like fun.

Yet this moment in time, wasn't so good,

As I stood in contraption, all made of wood.

Three sides and a curtain, all built by my hand,

Surrounded by desert, that endless sand.

It has been some time, since arriving in hell,

Three weeks had gone by and I'd started to smell.

So with the other's in mind, like the rest of the team,

A shower I built, in the name of hygiene.

but however I built it, with my skillful hand,

There still was a problem, that bloody sand.

Whenever the wind, decided to blow,

Through every hole, the sand did go.

And there you stood, not mutter a moan,

As soap transformed to pumise stone.

But still you'd stand, on your face a grin,

As the sandpaper effect, removed your skin.

Hoping the other's couldn't hear your groans,

As te skin was removed, right down to the bones.

But let it be said, when in the shower you'd been,

No-one could accuse you, of not being clean.