Joke II
Published by Rick on Tuesday, March 31, 2009.
The Queen is being shown around an Edinburgh hospital. Towards the end of his visit, she is shown into a ward of people with no obvious signs of injury. She greets the first patient and the chap replies:
Fair fa' your 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.
Her Majesty, being somewhat confused, grins and moves on to the next patient and greets him. He replies:
Some hae meat, and canna eat,
And some 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 sleek it, cow' in, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi bickering brattle!
HMQ turns to the doctor accompanying her and asks, "What sort of ward is this, a mental ward?"
"No," replies the doctor, "It's the serious Burns unit."
Fair fa' your 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.
Her Majesty, being somewhat confused, grins and moves on to the next patient and greets him. He replies:
Some hae meat, and canna eat,
And some 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 sleek it, cow' in, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi bickering brattle!
HMQ turns to the doctor accompanying her and asks, "What sort of ward is this, a mental ward?"
"No," replies the doctor, "It's the serious Burns unit."
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