The new hospital chaplain is making her first rounds. She enters one ward, and the first person says to her:

"Fair fa' your honest sonsie face, Great chieftain e' the puddin'.race! boon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o' a grace As lang 's my arm."

The chaplain is a wee bit confused, but moves on to the next patient, who says:

"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."

More confused, she goes on to the third patient, who rattles off:

"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!"

The chaplain goes to see the ward supervisor. "What is going on here?" she asks. "Didn't anyone tell you?" says the supervisor. "This is the Burns unit."