With Pegasus upon a day
Apollo, weary flying,
(Thro' frosty hills the journey lay)
On foot the way was plying.—

Poor, slip-shod, giddy Pegasus
Was but a sorry walker,
To Vulcan then Apollo gaes
To get a frosty calker.—

Oblidging 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.—