Could he but force his nether bill
To scoop the channel of the rill.
For sure you’d make a mighty clutter,
Were it as big as city gutter.
Next come I to your kitchen garden,
Where one poor mouse would fare but hard in;
And round this garden is a walk,
No longer than a tailor’s chalk;
Thus I compare what space is in it,
A snail creeps round it in a minute.