Scots poet, Robert Burns, wrote some really soppy stuff, albeit a lot of it in a kind of Lallans (Lowland Scots - a nearly defunct dialect of English). Check out this anglicized version of one of his poems for wussiness:
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her and love forever.
Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been brokenhearted.
...etc.
or, from another poem about a oneitis called Mary Morrison, also anglicized so you'll understand it:
Last night, when to the trembling string,
The dance went through the lighted hall,
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw;
Though this (i.e. this girl) was "great", and that was "grand",
And th' other the toast of all the town,
I sighed, and said, Among them all,
You are no Mary Morrison.
The beauty about Burns - if you see it as an advantage, that is - is that every year the Scots have a "Burns Night" (25th January, I think), wherein Scots the world over get together to hear recitals of this drivel. Mind you, it only works if you can do the Lowland Scots accent during the recital. I just think it would be a daft way to impress a chick. Sadly, I learned some of his poems a while ago with that in mind...
