With Pegasus upon a day,
Apollo, weary flying,
Throughfrosty hills the journey lay,
On foot the way was plying.

Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus
Was buta sorry walker;
To Vulcan then Apollo goes,
To geta frosty caulker.

Obliging Vulcan fellto work,
Threw byhis 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.