From out the land of Us!”

The stout man smole a frosty smile—

“An Ussian! Russian, Rusk, or Russ?”

“No, no! an Ussian, every while;

My land the land of Us.”

“Aw! Usland, Uitland? or, maybe,

Some Venezuela I’d forgot.

Hand out your map and let me see

Where Usland is and what.”

The lank man leaned and spread his map