She doesna need—she’s fever-proof;
The pest walked o’er her very roof—
She tauld me sae; an’ then her loof
Held out for her annuity.
Ae day she fell, her arm she brak—
A compound fracture as could be;
Nae leech the cure wad undertake,
Whate’er was the gratuity.
It’s cured! she handles ’t like a flail—
It does as weel in bits as hale;