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This one I feel it’s poetic!

The Simpson Wee Scott, a brush so small,
Yet in its performance, it stands tall.
A little companion, sturdy and strong,
In the realm of shaving, it belongs.

Compact, convenient, easy to hold,
In its tiny form, wonders unfold.
Whether at home or on the go,
The Wee Scott's virtues continue to show.

The badger bristles, dense and soft,
Whip up a lather, high aloft.
Though small in stature, it holds its might,
In every stroke, a sheer delight.

Perfect for travel, fits in any case,
Carries the comfort of home, in every place.
In the palm of your hand, a perfect fit,
For a close shave, it's truly lit.

Quality unmatched, it's Simpson-made,
In every detail, craftsmanship displayed.
The handle, the loft, all meticulously done,
The Wee Scott, under the sun.

Its size may deceive, but make no mistake,
In creating lather, it's no piece of cake.
The best little companion, it's been said,
A trusty partner, where shavers tread.

So here's to the Wee Scott, small and grand,
The finest brush in all the land.
In its presence, each shave's a delight,
The perfect start, to morning's light.
Still my favorite.

A poem written about shaving, in the style of Robert Burns, using Scottish idiom.

As I took up ma trusty razor keen, And gazed upon ma thistles wild and green, I pondered on the task at haun', Tae shave ma face, oh whit demand!

Wi' lather thick upon ma skin, I drew the blade wi' steady grin, And felt it slice through stubble tough, Leavin' ma chin as smooth as snuff.

But tho' ma razor may be fine, And leave nae hair upon ma line, It cannae tame the wild within, That makes me wha I am, ma kin.

So let ma thistles grow and thrive, A symbol of the man alive, And tho' I may be rough and gruff, Ma heart is kind, ma soul enough.

So let me shave or let me be, A man who lives life wild and free, And tho' ma face may change each day, Ma spirit stays the same alway.
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