28/1/13

 

Given a certain Scottish poet's day yesterday, herewith a little story…

 

David Cameron was visiting an Edinburgh hospital. 

He entered a ward full of patients with no obvious sign of injury or illness and greeted one, who looked the Prime Minister up and down and said:

"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 of a grace

As lang's my arm."

Cameron was confused, so he grinned and moved on to the next patient who responded with:

"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."

Even more confused, and with his grin more pronounced, the PM moved on to the next patient, who immediately began to chant:

"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! "

Now seriously troubled, the Prime Minister turned to the accompanying doctor and asked, "What kind of facility is this? A psychiatric ward?"

"No," replied the doctor, "This is the Burns Unit!"