Tony Blair is being shown around a hospital. Towards the end of his visit, he is shown into a ward with a number of people with no obvious signs of injury. He goes to greet the first and the chap replies:
"Fair fa' your honest sonsie face
Great chieftain o' the puddin' race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my airm."
Tony, being somewhat confused, goes to the next patient and greets him.
He replies:
"Some hae meat, and canna eat
And some wad eat that want it
But we hae meat and we can eat
And sae the Lord be thankit."
The third starts rattling off as follows:
"Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an chase thee
Wi murdering pattle!"
Tony turns to the doctor accompanying him and asks what sort of ward this is. A mental ward?
"No," replies the doctor, "It's the Burns unit."
"Fair fa' your honest sonsie face
Great chieftain o' the puddin' race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my airm."
Tony, being somewhat confused, goes to the next patient and greets him.
He replies:
"Some hae meat, and canna eat
And some wad eat that want it
But we hae meat and we can eat
And sae the Lord be thankit."
The third starts rattling off as follows:
"Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an chase thee
Wi murdering pattle!"
Tony turns to the doctor accompanying him and asks what sort of ward this is. A mental ward?
"No," replies the doctor, "It's the Burns unit."
