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thehollowmen
17th June 2005, 01:57
Don’t blame me, this is from Marc

An English doctor is being shown around a Scottish hospital during WW1. At the end of his visit, he is shown into a ward with a number of patients who have no sign of obvious injury. He goes to examine the first man that he sees, and the man proclaims:

"Fair fa' your honest sonsie face, Great Chieftan of the pudding race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place. Painch, tripe or thairm: Weel are ye worthy of a grace as lang's my arm."

The English doctor, somewhat taken aback, goes to the next patient who launches into: "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."

"Well" mutters the doctor to his Scottish colleague, "I see you saved the psychiatric ward to last." "Och nay," the Scottish doctor corrected him. "This is the serious burns unit."

(robbie burns for those that don't get it)

What?
17th June 2005, 06:47
I got it.
8/10 points.

riffer
17th June 2005, 13:32
:rofl:






yeah I got it. Nice one.

Pwalo
17th June 2005, 13:44
Is that 'Robbie Burns' the liquor store, or Robert Burns, the poet/haggis worshipper??

thehollowmen
17th June 2005, 14:31
Is that 'Robbie Burns' the liquor store, or Robert Burns, the poet/haggis worshipper??

The poet. He didn't worship haggis (And I don't blame him), if you've read his ode to a haggis he actually slags it off quite a bit.

Wolf
17th June 2005, 16:04
Hoots!

Mon.

And nary a reference to the wee sleekit cow'rin tim'rous beastie - they can't've been that serious about Burns...

With apologies to RB: "O wad some pow'r the Giftie gie us, to see some others before they see us."

Hitcher
17th June 2005, 21:01
The poet. He didn't worship haggis (And I don't blame him), if you've read his ode to a haggis he actually slags it off quite a bit.
Over hypes it, but certainly no slagging involved:

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="650"> <tbody><tr><td> Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to mend a mill
In time o'need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckles as wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro' blody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned,
Like taps o' trissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
Gie her a haggis! </td> </tr> <tr> <td>
(http://www.bbc.co.uk/scotland/history/burnsnight/poetry/index.shtml)</td> <td>http://www.bbc.co.uk/furniture/tiny.gif</td></tr></tbody> </table>

Ixion
17th June 2005, 21:08
Hoots!

Mon.

And nary a reference to the wee sleekit cow'rin tim'rous beastie - they can't've been that serious about Burns...

With apologies to RB: "O wad some pow'r the Giftie gie us, to see some others before they see us."

Mr tonyb caught the wee beastie. Didn't you see the other thread?

TonyB
18th June 2005, 10:56
Thats me- TonyB the Great White Wee Beastie Hunter

Wolf
18th June 2005, 14:36
Mr tonyb caught the wee beastie. Didn't you see the other thread?
Aye - then turn'd "him" out for a' his trouble but house or hald, to thole the winter's sleety dribble an' cranreuch cald...

At least Mr RobbieB said "sorry" to th' puer wee beastie - at length.