This seems like a particularly appropriate topic for me today, since I've been wrestling with expunging the bitty grammatical glitches from my manuscript. This poem made me smile.
Asylum for the Verbally Insane
We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.
If the plural of man is always called men,
Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you 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?
Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!
My dear friends, I have to keep this entry short because I'm on a deadline for tomorrow, but I've decided I want to update this blog about once a week. Let's see if I can keep to that ambitious goal. I haven't forgotten about my "time is like paint" topic :-)
Have a wonderful week.
~Thank you~ to dear friends.