On The English What Is Spoken



They sez I'm a little bugger.
Granny Satchel sez I'm rude,
An' 'er London chum, what chews on a plum,
Sez me english aint too good.
Sez I always drops me aitches
An' don't finish words off right
Cos me learnin's slow in the things they know
Sez me brain aint none too bright.
Sez I ought to go to a teacher
Sez me voice, it ought to be trained,
Sez in years to come I'll end up a bum,
Sez I won't if I'm "refained"
Y' Wha'..? I always asks 'em.
Break that habit!, they always replies.
You're about as genteel as a jellied eel--
He does it on purpose, they sighs.
They'm always on about diction,
Your accent's crude! they'll fret.
Sez I wouldn't know a 'yphen from a soda-syphon
- But I knows that both of 'em's wet!
We'll kill or cure you, they threatens.
You'll be a little gent' if it breaks your heart.
You'll study elocution at the speech institution -
Me, I couldn't give a fart.


Then it was non-stop etiquette:
Done things - good form - all bull!
They witters an' squawks about knives an' forks -
Even does it when their mouths'm full!
Wha's the use of learnin' that slop? I sez,
it's beetle-tracks for a nellie!
If it leaks I'd as soon use a flippin' spoon -
Wha's it matter how it gets t' me belly?
That's a bad attitude, ol' granny snaps.
You're too young to know your own mind.
There's nothing to lose, minding P's and Q's -
It's the way to preferment, you'll find!
So show respect for your elders.
They're older and wiser than you.
You'll mend your ways, or you'll end your days
An Illiterate, and a tradesman too!
Our grandad 'ook's one o' them, I sez,
You oughta see the stuff 'e's read!
'E don't need your lingo, 'e's got more in 'is finger
Than the stuff in the whole of your 'ead.
Most folks in England, they talks like me,
Yet you laughs, sez you don't understand;
Yet that bloke, Shakespear, 'e was born near here -
Was you raised in some other land..??


I'm all on me own, in me bedroom, now,
Cos of gran' - might've knowed she'd sneak.
She told our dad, 'ow I'd been a bad lad --
Now I'm locked in 'ere f' me cheek.
An' that Bloombury woman an', 'er perfect english,
'Er thinkin' aint that smart.
She's no room t' boast when she lives near the coast:
An' I lives in Englands 'eart.
It'd serve 'er right if a miracle 'appened -
Say, the world moved fifty mile..
Then that toffee-nosed fink'd be in the drink -
An' I wouldn't 'alf flippin' smile.




-Sterl