An English doctor was being shown around a Scottish hospital.
At the end of an extensive tour of the operating rooms, medical,
surgical, and pediatric units, he was shown into a ward with a
number of patients who showed no obvious signs of injury. He
went to examine the first man he saw, and the man proclaimed:
"Fair fa' yer honest sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin' race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place, painch tripe or thairm: Weel are
ye worthy o' a grace as lang's my arm..."
The doctor, somewhat taken aback, went to the next patient, who
immediately launched into:
"Some hae meat, and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it, But
we haemeat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit."
And the next patient: "Wee sleekit cow'rin tim'rous beastie, O what a
panic'sin thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, wi
bickering brattle I wad be laith to run and chase thee, wi murdering
"Well," said the Englishman to his Scottish colleague, "I see you
saved the psychiatric ward for last." "No, no, no," the Scottish
doctor corrected him, "this is the Serious Burns Unit."