The Sair Finger

I cut my finger along with the Sunday Roast (not clever I know) and it's right on the knuckle joint. It reminded me of being in Primary School and having to recite the following poem for the Scottish Poetry competition. No hankie on my finger though, just a boring plaster.

Sair Finger by Walter Wingate

You've hurt your finger? Puir wee man!
Your pinkie? Deary me!
Noo, juist you haud it that wey till
I get my specs and see!

My, so it is - and there's the skelf!
Noo, dinna greet nae mair.
See there - my needle's gotten't out!
I'm sure that wasna sair?

And noo, to make it hale the morn.
Put on a wee bit saw.
And tie a bonnie hankie roun't -
Noo, there na - rin awa'!

Your finger sair ana'? Ye rogue.
Ye're only letting on!
Weel, weel, then - see noo, there ye are.
Row'd up the same as John.