I was only made aware of the following poem/song by Rabbie Burns this morning There Was Twa Wives There was twa wives, and twa witty wives, As e'er play'd houghmagandie, And they coost oot, upon a time, Out o'er a drink o brandy; Up Maggie rose, and forth she goes, And she leaves auld Mary flytin, And she farted by the byre-en' For she was gaun a ****en. She farted by the byre-en', She farted by the stable; And thick and nimble were her steps As fast as she was able: Till at yon dyke-back the hurly brak, But raxin for some dockins, The beans and pease cam down her thighs, And she cackit a' her stockins. So, basically, two Ayrshire tarts get pished and one of them ****es themself - nothing much changes in 250 years. One of my daughters had to memorise a Burns poem for school today and she memorised "My Love is like a red, red rose" - if I'd known there was one about farting and ****eing, I'd have notified her and she'd have no problem remembering it.
Worry ye not, I carry a couple of those Magic Tree car fresheners around just in case I have a mishap.
Whit aboot this filth? Cock Up Your Beaver When first my brave Johnie lad came to this town, He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown, But now he has gotten a hat and a feather - Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver! Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu' sprush! We'll over the border and gie them a brush: There's somebody there we'll teach better behavior - Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver! There's a version of this being read by Alan Cummings on the BBC site. Also, in Mauchline, they've listed a building that used to be his favourite brothel - it's called Poosie Nansie's
