With absolutely no attempt to raise the standard Poetry Editor Ira Maine Esq has given us this shameful offering:
The Merry Muses of Caledonia
There appeared in Scotland, in the 18th century, a scurrilous volume bearing the above title, of scant merit and lacking even the rudiments of good taste which found its largest audience amongst the great unwashed.
Simply to give my audience the merest suggestion of how low the inhabitants of that northerly land might stoop in order to elicit a coarse and vulgar snigger, I offer you all the following ditty, extracted from the aforementioned tome and entitled;
Wad Ye Do That?
[lest any person have difficulty with the text, I offer what I hope will be a helpful translation]
Gudewife, when your gudeman’s frae home [when your husband’s not at home]
Might I but be sae bauld, [be so bold]
As come to your bedchamber,
When winter nights are cauld; [cold]
As come to your bedchamber,
When nights are cauld and wat, [wet]
And lie in your gudeman’s stead,
Wad ye do that?
Young man, an ye should be sae kind,
When our gudeman’s frae hame,
As come to my bedchamber,
Where I am lain my lane; [alone]
And lie in our gudeman’s stead,
I will tell you what,
He fucks me five times ilka night,
Wad ye do that?
Demonstrably unfit for the more delicate sensibilities, don’t you think?
Ira Maine esq, Poetry Editor