For The Defence
'This Cen-TEEN-ary,' sez 'e
Sez I, 'You'll pardon me.'
(Perlite, like that, first off, and 'arf in laughter).
'You'll pardon me, I'm sure,'
I sez: 'but, speakin' pure,
Cen-TEN-ary, I think's, the word you're after.'
'Cen-TEEN-ary!' sez 'e;
An' looks fair, bang at me
All sort of snakey-eyed an' irritated.
Sez I, 'Don't be absurd,
For the dictionary word
Is Cen-TEN-ary. It's much more edjacated.'
'Cen-TEEN-ary!!' sez 'e.
Some'ow, 'e seemed to be
The sorta bloke wot gits me back up proper.
'Aw, brush yer brains!' sez I,
Gettin' 'ot. (I dunno why.)
'Cen-TEN-ary!' I sez. 'You darn clod-'opper!'
'Cen-TEEN-ary!!!' sez 'e,
As snarky as could be.
You know the sorta bloke I mean - pig-'eaded).
'Cen-TEN-ary, you fool!
Ain't you never been to school?'
Sez I. An' then things 'appened - like I dreaded.
'Cen-TEEN-ary!!!' sez 'e.
An' 'e swings a left at me
That would 'a' knocked me cold, if it 'ad landed.
'Ho! A gentleman!' I sneers;
'Full of nice, perlite idears.'
Then I ups an' tears right into 'im, two-'anded.
'Cen-TEEN-ary,' squeaks 'e.
(Still obstinit, yeh see).
Well, it weren't no time for bein' tender-'arted,
So I spreads 'im on the floor,
An' 'e never sez no more ....
So, please yer Worship, that was 'ow it started.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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