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 Which seemed a sort of paradox, As we pushed scrambling through the rocks, Until the top was nigh.

When we were on the Mountain, Fanny and Jack and I, And such a view as there are few Beneath our feet did lie, With hill and dale on either hand, We thought it very, very grand— Said some one "but its dry."

We looked at one another, Fanny and Jack and I, As if to ask "who has a flask?" But there was no reply. Quoth Jack, "If this were Deutschland here