With Pegasus upon a day,Apollo, weary flying,Through frosty hills the journey lay,On foot the way was plying.
Poor slipshod giddy PegasusWas 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.