Ough, you oaf!

Its been a while, and another Saarang goes by, a few more sleepless nights and a dash of TV apperances and last minute make-do grand extravaganzas...

But I spotted recently in class a nice poem which illustrates why I like this language that is the infuriating invention of the Brits.

Ough

I'm taugh p-l-o-u-g-h
Shall be pronounced as "plow"
"Zat's easy when you know", I say
"Mon Anglais I'll get through.
My teacher says zat in zat case
O-u-g-h is "oo."

And zen I laugh and say to him
"Zees Anglais make me cough."
He say, "Not coo, but in zat word
o-u-g-h of 'off."
O sacre bleu! Such varied sound
Of words make me hiccough.
He says, 'again my friend is wrong;
o-u-g-h is 'up'
In hiccough." Zen I cry, "No more.
You make my throat feel rough."
"Non, non," he cry, "you are not right.
o-u-g-h is 'uff."
I say, "I'll try to spik your words.
I can't pronounce them, though."
"In time you'll learn, but now you're wrong;
o-u-g-h is 'owe'!"
"I'll try no more, I shall go mad.
I'll drown me in ze lough."
"But ere you drown yourself," said h e,
"o-u-g-h is 'ock.'!"
He taught no more! I held him fast
And killed him wiz a rough!

Vive le france, eh!?? :-)