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On a State visit to the UK, Barack Obama is visiting a Scottish hospital. He enters a ward where most people are justing sitting around in normal outdoor clothing and there doesnt appear to be much wrong with them. Intrigued, he approaches the first man.
'Hello and how are you today?' he asks. The man responds:

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


Obama is slightly taken aback and not knowing what to say he moves onto another patient.
'Hi. Are they looking after you well in here?'
The man looks up at the President and says:


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!

Obama is quite disconcerted now, glares at his aides and moves onto a third patient.
'Hello. Its nice to meet you. How are you doing?'
Immediately the man responds:

O Thou that in the Heavens does dwell,
Wha, as it pleases best Thysel,
Sends ane to Heaven, an ten to Hell,
A' for Thy glory,
And no for onie guid or ill
They've done before Thee!


A bit freaked out, Obama leaves the ward and corners his Aides outside. 'What the hell was that about? Why did you take me to that ward? Was that some kind of mental ward?'

The Aide replies,'No, Mr President. That was the Serious Burns Unit.'

(With apologies to Address to Haggis, To a Mouse and Holy Willie's Prayer.)

Keith