Eldred's glum, glum spleen
The dictionary was far from green
Though lacking "serpentine" to "spleen"
Though lacking "fish" to "magazine"
And duplicating "stoat"
This thinnish book was little use
It held no synonym for "goose"
And glossed "extravagant" as "puce"
And "hymnody" as "throat"
The supplements were just as good
With "turpentine" and "sandalwood"
As pseudonyms of "Robin Hood"
And "Hildebrand" of "goat"
Yet, bound inside its crimson spine
Worth more than any diamond mine
It blazon'd forth the deathless line:
"Please ignore this note"
The likes of Chaucer, Milton, Keats
Or anyone who oft repeats
(the product of too many beets)
Such words as "asymptote"
Had owned this volume, turn by turn
The prolix and the taciturn
The sapient and the slow-to-learn
Resiting "words" by "wrote"
And so it was that, later
As the tailor milled his gaiter
And looked up words for " waiter"
That we foundered in the moat
A dictionary as cause of death
A pillow-book that stifles breath
Withholder of the shiboleth
That casts the world afloat.
|Contributors:||PeterWRC, P, Roland, Mick, TG, Bop|
|Poem finished:||19th January 1997|