Poem by Robert Burns

To John Taylor

With Pegasus upon a day,
  	Apollo, weary flying, –
Through 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 goes
  	To get a frosty calker.

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.

1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
2. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
3. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
4. The Bonnie Wee Thing
5. Castle Gordon

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