In Lot's time there were lots of sulphur,
And to-day it is piteous on pitch.
No washwoman comes with a bucket,
No thirsty man comes with a mug;
For the one who would venture to suck it
Would wish that his grave had been dug.
Not a breath of a breeze is blowing,
No waves on the waters fall,
Though a strong smell of naphtha is flowing,
They said, 'We don't mind it at all.'