Is this great country spread about.
Here are the Apeninnes, and there Caucasus."
The smallest mole hill is a mountain.
At the end of some days our traveller arrives
At a certain canton where every oyster thrives,
And our famed traveller turned very pale,
Thinking he saw great vessels setting sail
"Mercy," said he, "My father was a dunce,
He did not dare to travel even once,
While I have seen already,