CLUB GOSSIP

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXIV, 15 January 1931, Page 7

CLUB GOSSIP

BY A LONDON CLUBMAN t ENGLISH DIFFICULTIES J . Now and then we read of the difficulties whicli»at times beset versifiers in providing rhymes for particular words. Among words for which I have heard it said it is impossible to furnish a sensible rhyme are “orange” and “month” and if I remember aright “chrysanthemum” was in one of the short lists, for short they certainly are. Apropos, I was scanning a volume of “Punch” for ISS2 when I happened upon this: SUNDAY BLOSSOMS AT THE TEMPLE First to the church where the choir a nice anthem limns, Then to the garden to see the cliryantliemums Neat, is’nt it? Although I confess that so far I have not heard a choir an anthem hum. * * • • Amongst my multitude of cuttings from old newspapers and periodicals is this from a copy of the “Leisure Hour,” to illustrate some of the difficulties which are experienced by the differences between the spelling and pronunciation of many English words:

While hewing yews Hugh lost his ewe, And put it in the “Hue and Cry.” To name its face’s dusky hues, Was all ttlie effort he could use. You brought the ewe back by-and-fiy, And only begged the hewer’s ewer, Your hands to wash in water pure, Lest nice-nosed ladies, not a few, Should cry, on coming near you, “Ugh!”

The lines wei’e given to a parish school as a dictation lesson by a member of Lord Derby’s Commission on Education over seventy years ago. They could well serve a like purpose in any elementary school to-day. * * #

An ingenious rhyme which strikingly emphasises the difficulties confronting a foreigner who desires to gain a speaking and writing knowledge of English funs as follows:

The wind was rough And cold and blouglt, She kept her hands within her mougli. it chilled her through, Her nose grew rough And still the squall the faster flough. And yet, although There was no snougli, The weather was a cruel fough. It made her cough— Pray, do not seough— She coughed until her hat blough ougli. Next, I quote a humorous poem which, appearing in a London weekly in 1902, was attributed tp the late Lord Cromer: * When the English tongue we speak, Why is “break” not rhymed with “freak” ? Will you tell me why it’s true We say “sew,” but likewise “Jew”? “Beard” sounds not the same as “heard”. ' “Cord” is different from “word”; “Cow” is cow, but “low” is low, “Shoe” is never rhymed with “foe”; And since “pay” is rhymed with, “say,” Why npt “paid” with “said,” I pray? And, in short, it seems to me. Sound and letters disagree. •.• • 9 In, one of my common-place books I find this amusing versified illustratioin of ANOMALIES OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE A pretty dear js dear to me A hare with downy hair. A hart with all my heart But barely bear a bear ’Tis plain that no one takes a plan To shave a pair of pears; A rake, though, often takes a rake And tears away all tares. All rays raise 'thyme, time raises all; And through the whole, hole wears.

And Wright, in writing “right,” may write It “wright,” and still be wrong, For “write” and “rite” are neither “right,” • And don’t to Wright belong.

Beer often brings a bier to man, Coughing a coffin brings, And too much ale will makg us ail, As' well as some other things.

The person lies who says he lies When he is not reclining; And when consumptive folks decline, They all decline declining.

A quail don’t quail before a storm; A bough will bow before it; We cannot rein the rain at all, No earthly power reigns o’er it.

The dyer dyes awhile, then dies; To dye he’s always trying, Until, upon his dying bed, Ho thinks no more of dyeing.

A son of Mars mars many a son; All Deys must have their days; - And every knight should pay each night To him Avho weighs his ways.

’Tis moot tliat men should mete out meat, , To feed misfortune’s son; The fair should fare on love alone, Else one cannot he won.

A lass, alas! is something false; Of faults a maid is made; Her waist is but a barren waist Though stay’d she is not staid. The spring springs forth.in spring, and shoots I' Shoot forward one and all; Though summer kills the flowers, it leaves Their leaves to fall in fall. I'would a story here commence, But you might find it stale, So let’s suppose that we have reached The tail end of our tale. ROAD-RAGING 25 AGO In his book of reminiscences, Mr KcrSeymer, who knew many of the pioneers of motor racing and aviation, remarks that in the early years of this century road-racing conditions were far different from those known to the motoring world to-day. The roads were in a shocking condition, and the marvel is that any motorist who had the pluck to compete in a race escaped with his life.

The dust was so thick that the drivers had to steer aux pointes d’asperges. That is to say, by the tops of the trees bordering the roads, they being the only things visible

owing to the dust cloud! I remember Charlie Rolls telling me, at the end of a race to Bordeaux in which he had arrived third —I still recall his surprised look when I told him his place—that he had started seventyfourth from Versailles that morning and that consequently he had passed seventy-one competitors on his 340-mile journey; beyond that he was conscious, owing to the extra density of the dust, that lie was passing another car, he had seen virtually nothing at all either of the other competitors or of the many accidents by the way.