“——Your souls? O gholes,
You queer little drolls!
Do you mean——?” “Good Gaffer, do aid us with speed,
For our time, like our stature, is short indeed!
And a very long way we have to go,
Eight or ten thousand miles or so,
Hither and thither, and to and fro;
With our pots and pans,
And little gold cans;
But our light caravans