Poet vrs the North American Native Indian

So a Poet and a Native American have died and they are standing at the pearly gates of St. Peters. It has been a long day and is about closing time and St. Peter wants to end his shift so decides to let in only 1 of them before he shuts the gates for the night. His staff also want to end the work day and letting both in would cause to much late in the day paperwork.

St Peter looked at the files for both and realized both qualified to get in but the paperwork for setting the Native Indian up in Heavens Native Indian reserve was more than let in the Republican Presbyterian poet. One will have to remain in purgatory until doors open in the morning. It is only a few hours so no big deal. So he comes up with a quick plan and says,

"Both of you will pass these gates but there is only time to let one of you through tonight. So we are going to do a fair competition. I want you to say a poem that end in the word Timbuktu. You have 1 minute to think on your poem.

The poet pipes up in seconds and says, "We are on the beach, a romantic dinner for two, in the distance we see a Porsche blue..... its destination Timbuktu." As he says the final line he waves with his right hand and stares serenely into the distance.

St Peter inwardly acknowledges the pace and delivery of the poets intellect. It was astounding.

St. Peter looks at the Native Indian who is looking in the direction of the Poet gestured and says, "well?", expecting it to end there.

The Native Indian smiles at Poet and St. Peter and says, "Oh I got a poem for both of yas.", and with the most shit eating grin on his face he starts, "Me and Tim a hunting we be. In the distance three Squaws we see. Since they be tree and we be two Ibukone and Timbuktu"