Funny poems, yet!

I came across this today, I believe there's more of it, the wordplay is so clever!

Throughout his life, Camille Saint-Saens was mad about Algeria.
He raved about its sun-kissed shores; he worshiped its interior.
'No sooner am I there,' he said, 'than, instantly, I'm cheerier!'
(He sometimes tried Morocco, but he found it much inferior.)

His oldest friends, in unison, bemoaned this curious mania.
'Why don't you go to Chad?' they cried, 'or even Mauretania?'
A doctor, asked to intervene, talked darkly of hysteria.
He thanked them for their views, but said he still preferred Algeria."

The years, rolled on, and poor Camille grew old and somewhat wearier.
His breath grew short, his trousers tight, across his plump posterior.
At length, he shuffled off his coil and quit this vale of tears.
And, true to form, as was his norm, he did so in Algiers."