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248. Pegasus at Wanlockhead

by
 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 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.

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