US Scots

An English doctor was visiting a northern Scottish hospital. Entering
the last ward, he was surprised to see that none of the patients had
any obvious signs of illness or injury. But as he neared the first
bed, its occupant piped up:

            "Fair fa' yer honest sonsie face,
            Great chieftain e' 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 arm."
            The next patient, ignoring his greeting, immediately erupted:
            "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."

 On to the next, who rapidly lifted himself from his pillow and glared
at the visitor with a menacing eye:
            "Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
            O, what aq panic's in thy breastie!
            Thou need not start awa sae hasty,
            Wi bickering brattle
            I wad be laith to run and chase thee,
            Wi murdering pattle!"
            Stepping back, he quietly asked his host if he shouldn't
open a psychiatric ward.

        "Och, nay," came the gently-burred reply; "this is our
serrrious Burrrns unit!"