I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
On hiccough, thorough, lough and through?
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird,
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead -
For goodness sake don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt).
A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth in brother,
And here is not a match for there
Nor dear and fear for bear and pear,
And then there's dose and rose and lose -
Just look them up - and goose and choose,
And cork and work and card and ward,
And font and front and word and sword,
And do and go and thwart and cart -
Come, come, I've hardly made a start!
A dreadful language? Man alive!
I'd mastered it when I was five!
-Richard Krogh
My children are going to be fluent in a minimum of three languages: English, Spanish, and whichever foreign country's native language that I feel would be the best to escape to/have ties to in a time of crisis.
I'm slightly paranoid like that.
Also, I have my future mapped out all nice like. I will marry a man who is a minimum of four years older than me, he will be the son of a carpenter, and he will have an extremely wealthy Godfather that dotes on him like nobody's business. That way, I don't have to deal with rich in-laws, but I get the benefit of a loving and well-off relative.
I'm basically a genius.
Just kidding. That would be pretty nice and all, but who am I to predetermine my destiny?
xoxo,
McCall
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