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The English Lesson

(Forwarded through the net with no author credited with a few additions by myself.)

We'll begin with box, and the plural is boxes;

But the plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes?

Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese

Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

Neither does a noose ever become neece

We play with dice, but one is a die

If like the mice, one dice should be douse

We're afraid of mice, and one is not mie

You may find a lone mouse or a whole lot of mice,

But the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,

When couldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

The cow in the plural may be cows or kine,

But the plural of vow is vows, not vine.

And I speak of a foot, and you show me your feet,

But I give a boot - would a pair be called beet?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,

Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

If the singular is this and plural is these,

Why shouldn't the plural of kiss be nicknamed kese?

Then one may be that, and three may be those,

Yet the plural of hat would never be hose;

We speak of a brother, and also of brethren,

But though we say mother, we never say methren.

The masculine pronouns are he, his and him,

But imagine the feminine she, shis, and shim!

So our English, I think you will all agree,

Is the trickiest language you ever did see.

I take it you already know

Of tough and bough and cough and dough?

Others may stumble, but not you

On hiccough, thorough, slough, and through?

Well done! And now you wish, perhaps

To learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard, a dreadful word

That looks like beard and sounds like bird.

And dead; it's said like bed, not bead;

For goodness sake, don't call it deed!

Watch out for meat and great and threat,

(they rhyme with suite and straight and debt)

A moth is not a moth in mother.

Nor both in bother, broth in brother.

And here is not a match for there.

And dear and fear for bear and pear.

And then there's dose and rose and lose --

Just look them up -- and goose and choose.

And cork and work and card and ward,

And font and front and word and sword.

And do and go, then thwart and cart.

Come, come, I've hardly made a start.

A dreadful language? Man alive,

I'd learned to speak it when I was five,

And yet to write it, the more I sigh,

I'll not learn how 'till the day I die

If you like this one, the next one will drive you nuts

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