A horse-riding messenger ‘till some bandit assails me,
Then on foot I’m too slow, and my postmaster fails me:
Just a day in the life with these ancient logistics –
Man, life is hard as a Babylonian postman.

Straight-laced and keen to please clients demented,
But given that postcodes are not yet invented
How am I to reach all of my target statistics?
There’s just no respect for us Babylonian postmen.

A pitiful soul bearing such pungent packages,
Contents assailing my poor nasal passages,
Gagging, I sprint from one town to another –
There’s no bath awaiting the Babylonian postman.

Never a rainbow but wroth gods aplenty,
’Twixt cyclones and snowstorms and sunstrokes a-twenty
I overtake tempests to get home to Mother.
What fresh hell awaits this Babylonian postman?