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With Pegasus upon a day Apollo, weary flying, (Thro' frosty hills the journey lay) On foot the way was plying. Poor, slipshod, giddy Pegasus Was, but a sorry walker, To Vulcan then Apollo gaes, To get a frosty calker. Obliging Vulcan fell to wark, Threw by his coat and bonnet; And did Sol's business in a crack, Sol pay'd 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.
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