Looking further down, an even more bizarre scene gradually unfolded before Byron as described by the words.
"This country is warm in Winter, cool in summer.
The houses here are not built of bricks but of honey cookies. The roofs are not tiled but made of egg-fried pancakes.
In this blissful country, every house is fenced with various sausages. Instead of water, all sorts of flavored fine wines spring forth from the wells.
The birch and willow trees in this country bear fresh bread. The rivers run with milk, and when the bread ripens and falls into the river, it becomes milk bread.
The sky is full of roasted geese, ducks, thrushes, grouse, capons, and wild hens...
Little pigs are cooked in sour cream, with knives and forks sticking out of their backs. They walk around all year round, with carved gold and silver platters on their tails.
The leaves of the oak trees are Gold Coins or silver coins; if you want them, you just knock them down with a stick.
