Classic Poem

IN THE MENTAL HOSPITAL

I'm writin' to be printed, Dan,
That all the world may know it —
The things that happen to a man,
An' happen to a poet!
I'm in a private hospital —
Come see me gin you doot it —
Wi' nurse wi' cap an' apron on —
I'll tell ye all aboot it.

There's naething hard nor snapper here,
There's naething sly nor catty,
Wi' a' the nurses pretty girls,
An' a' the patients ratty.
We gang to bed at nine o'clock,
An' I lie till eleven —
We're all divorced an' orphans here,
And, man! the place is heaven!

But O most marvellous of all
In this poor bard's life passage —
I've had what nursin' bodies call
" Mas-sarsh " — I ca' it massage.
You're stripped (it is the nakit truth —
Your laughin' can't up-root it),
An' plucked an' rubbed by women's hands —
I'll tell ye all aboot it.

I took a warm bath over night,
A cold shower in the mornin',
They told me to put on ma troonks
And ca'd me wi'oot warnin'.
An' there I saw ('twere better I'd
Been decently ondressit)
A woman peerin' through her specs
At Adam's self — confessit.

Ma troonks! Sic trunks! — the very ghaist
O' breeks, for Eve's Museum.
They're hard to see when found, but maist
The time ye canna see 'em.
I lost my trunks the morn. They searched
An' looked, till looks looked squally —
I ached to say a coat of good
Black paint wad dae as brawly!

An' not be lost, an' save the hunt,
Through wards an' presses rangin' —
An' save their tempers an' their time —
An' save my own in changin'.
The woman? — O I maist forgot! —
I thought I would have fainted,
Ye ken, we'd not been introduced,
Nor even been acquainted.
Blush? Man! you'd been too scared to blush,
Though you could blush wi' ony.
(I dinna ken what might ha' been
If on'y she'd been bonny.)

She laid me on a horse-hair slab,
Wi' a' me body prickin',
And there she kneaded me like dough
An plucked me like a chicken.
She clawed an' plucked an' rubbed an' thumped,
Ma very joints unhingin',
She turned me on ma face — I thought:
" Weel, here gangs for the singin'! "

She had me doon! Ma arms hung limp —
Nae tongue was like that woman's!
And all the time she talked o' men —
" You men! " — an' oor shortcomin's.
( " Soap weel! " the massage woman said,
" You'll hae to be weel soapit! " )
She talked o' female suffrage then!
I said ma prayer — an' hopit.

Aweel! I'm weel — unskinned an' sound —
Ma' passions rest uncommon —
But all the time that woman's round,
I stand by votes for Woman!
I say I'd gi' 'em Parliament:
I hope she doesna doot it;
For she's gone daft on cablegrams —
I'll tell ye all aboot it.