Two bards and a Britney
At my quartet rehearsal the other night, there was me and three respectable married ladies. The conversation turned to Burns Night, a couple of days earlier, and one of the aforementioned ladies told us that at the one she attended (at the Scotch Malt Whisky Society, I think) someone had recited a very rude Burns poem about farting. i didnlt now that one, so just went a Googling and found it here.
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,
An she leaves auld Mary flytin,
And she farted by the byre-en'
For she was gaun a shiten.
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.
That one's in Scots (for explanation see the link above), while this next one is in English and needs no glossing:
My girl she’s airy
My girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay,
Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May;
A touch of her lips it ravishes quite.
She's always good natur'd, good humor'd, and free;
She dances, she glances, she smiles with a glee;
Her eyes are the lightenings of joy and delight,
Her slender neck, her handsome waist,
Her hair well buckl’d, her stays well lac’d,
Her taper white leg with an et, and a,c,
For her a, b, e, d, and her c, u, n, t,
And Oh! For the joys of a long winter night!!!
Shakespeare is a little more subtle when he does the spelling-out gag in Twelfth Night:
By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very C's, her U's and her T's, and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
A comment on another site directed me to this song (to my surprise, I didn't know it) containing a broadly similar joke.