Though mist is all around us, and snow is lying deep;
The green Inn rushes foamingly, far down beneath our path,
And chafes against the stocks and stones, like an M.P. in wrath.
All nature holds a washing-day, with froth, and slop, and steam,
The wintry sun will scarcely deign vouchsafe one vagrant beam;
So when we reach Landek and stop, well may the Gastwirth[54] grin,
He sees the Nirgend’s[55] Wanderer come very soppy in:
(Chorus of enthusiastic partizans and compatriots:—)
The long-haired German Wanderer comes very soppy in!
II.