Here’s another fine verse from the hard-to-find Robert Burns volume The Merry Muses of Caledonia:

Nae Hair On’t

Yestreen I wed a lady fair,
An ye wad believe me,
On her cunt there growes nae hair,
That’s the thing that grieves me.

It vexed me sair, it plagued me sair,
It put me in a passion,
To think that I haed wad a wife,
Whase cunt was oot o fashion.

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