I'm reading more poetry this days, and stumbled across this from Scotland's own Robert Burns:

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a lo’esome wee thing,
  This dear wee wife o’ mine.

I never saw a fairer,      
I never lo’ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I’ll wear her,
  For fear my jewel tine,
    She is a winsome, &c.

The warld’s wrack we share o’t;      
The warstle and the care o’t;
Wi’ her I’ll blythely bear it,
  And think my lot divine.
    She is a winsome, &c.
Not quite a Yo La Tengo song, but not that far off.

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