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One frosty day in 1789, Robert Burns was travelling through Wanlockhead, mounted on his new horse, Pegasus. He called at the smithy to have the horse’s shoes seen to but found that the smith said he was too busy to assist. Burns wrote this poem to a local friend, John Taylor, who then persuaded the smith to attend to Pegasus.
“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.”