The Apostle at a killing pace,
Followed the goat, in a desperate chase;
Over the hills and among the briers
The goat runs on and never tires,
While Peter, behind, on the grassy plain,
Runs on, panting and sighing in vain.
All day, beneath a scorching sun,
The good Apostle had to run
Till evening came; the goat was caught
And safely to the Master brought,