I’m still having fun mining The Merry Muses Of Caledonia for short bawdy poems by Robert Burns. There are long ones in there too, but I find them more, ah, impenetrable due to Scots dialect issues. This one offers no such difficulties:

Supper isna Ready

Roseberry to his lady says,
“My hinnie an my succour,
“O shall we dae the thing you ken,
“Or shall we tak oor supper?”

Wi modest face, sae fou o grace,
Replied the bonny lady;
“My noble lord dae as you please,
“But supper is na ready.”

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