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 Sols business in a crack;
Sol paid him with a sonnet.
Ye Vulcans sons of Wanlockhead,
Pity my sad disaster;
My Pegasus is poorly shod,
Ill pay you like my master.
