But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.
Then shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
But though we say mother, we never say methren.
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!
Let's face it - English is a crazy language.
There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger;
neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren't invented in England .
We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes,
we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square,
and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing,
grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?
If you have a bunch of odds and ends
and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English
In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?
We ship by truck but send cargo by ship.
We have noses that run and feet that smell.
We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway.
And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same,
while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language
in which your house can burn up as it burnsdown,
and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
And, in closing, if Father is Pop, how come Mother's not Mop?
AND IF PEOPLE FROM POLAND ARE CALLED POLES THEN
PEOPLE FROM HOLLAND SHOULD BE HOLES











