Vulcana my dear little high ledge walker

From the streets of Quito
Vulcana crept
Despite the traffic, she adept
Crouching under an old cart wheel
She could sense how you did feel

Your love for the under dog
Showed shafts of light
In her dark bog

And Vulcana was adopted
And loved inexplicably
By a women who most agree
One look at her
And they can see

Cristina yes Millingalli
Who would ever
Thus leave thee

Vulcana will be wanting to
Stay by your side
I promise you