David Cameron is being shown around a hospital not earmarked for closure.
Towards the end of his visit, he is shown into a ward with a number of people with no obvious signs of injury.
He goes to greet the first 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."
David, being somewhat confused goes to the next patient and greets him.
He replies: "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 thank it."
The third starts rattling off as follows: "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!"
David turns confused, to the doctor accompanying him and asks what sort of ward this is, a mental ward?
"No," replies the doctor. "It's the Burns unit!"