O-U-G-H (A Fresh Hack at an Old Knot) By Charles Battell Loomis I’m taught p-l-o-u-g-h s‘all be pronounce “plow.” Zat’s easy w’en you know,” I say, “Mon Anglais I’ll get through!” My teacher say 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 is ‘off.’” Oh, Sacre bleu! Such varied sounds of words makes me hiccough! He say, “Again mon frien’ ees wrong; o-u-g-h is ‘up’ In hiccough.” Zen I cry, “No more! You make my t’roat feel rough.” “Non, non!” he cry, “you are not right; o-u-g-h is ‘uff.’” I say, “I try to spik your words, I cannot spik zem though!” “In time you’ll learn, but now you’re wrong! O-u-g-h is ‘owe.’” I’ll try no more, I s’all go mad-I’ll drown me in ze lough!” “But ere you drown yourself,” said he, “O-u-g-h is ‘ock.’” He taught no more, I held him fast, and killed him wiz a rough.
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(A Fresh Hack at an Old Knot)
By Charles Battell Loomis
I’m taught p-l-o-u-g-h s‘all be pronounce “plow.”
Zat’s easy w’en you know,” I say, “Mon Anglais I’ll get through!”
My teacher say 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 is ‘off.’”
Oh, Sacre bleu! Such varied sounds of words makes me hiccough!
He say, “Again mon frien’ ees wrong; o-u-g-h is ‘up’
In hiccough.” Zen I cry, “No more! You make my t’roat feel rough.”
“Non, non!” he cry, “you are not right; o-u-g-h is ‘uff.’”
I say, “I try to spik your words, I cannot spik zem though!”
“In time you’ll learn, but now you’re wrong! O-u-g-h is ‘owe.’”
I’ll try no more, I s’all go mad-I’ll drown me in ze lough!”
“But ere you drown yourself,” said he, “O-u-g-h is ‘ock.’”
He taught no more, I held him fast, and killed him wiz a rough.
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