With Pegasus upon a day,

Apollo, weary flying,

Through frosty hills the journey lay,

On foot the way was plying.

Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus

Was but a sorry walker;

To Vulcan then Apollo goes,

To get a frosty caulker.

Obliging Vulcan fell to work,

Threw by his coat and bonnet,

And did Sol's business in a crack;

Sol paid him with a sonnet.

Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead,

Pity my sad disaster;

My Pegasus is poorly shod,

I'll pay you like my master.