topsy turvy

China, and Ganges, and Japan, / Are Words my Papa taught my Pen. He ſays, they're Countries to be found, / In a ſtrange World, below the Ground; / Where Folks with Feet erected treat, / And diſtant, downward hang their Head; / Fearleſs they topſy turvy run, / With naught beneath—but Skies and Sun.