by Michael Calvert

(With apologies to Robbie Burns)

“Erotic asphyxiation has become mainstream among under-35s.”
—The Guardian

My luve hae gat a reid, reid face
And on her face I dote,
And maistly ivery time I place
My fingers roond her throat.

And likeweys, I for aye can tell
Her luve for me is true;
I ken it whan my een do swall
And whan my face turns blue.

I tell ye true, my bonnie miss,
Ye ne’er do seem so fair,
Or fill my saul w’ such a bliss
Than whan ye gasp for air.

Until the seas gang dry, my dear,
I’ll luve ye, unto deith.
Until we baith are on oor bier
Completely oot of breith.