Tớ chừa rồi. Năm sau làm yearbook nữa thì tớ xin cống hiến cho cả nhà.
À có bài thơ này cũng hay hay, ai rỗi rãi thì dọc thử nhá.
Let's face it
English is a stupid language.
There is no egg in the eggplant,
No ham in the hamburger
And neither pine nor apple in the pineapple.
English muffins were not invented in England,
French fries were not invented in France.
We sometimes take English for granted, but if we examine its paradoxes
we find that:
Quicksand takes you down slowly,
Boxing rings are square,
And a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
If writers write, how come fingers don't fing?
If the plural of tooth is teeth,
Shouldn't the plural of phone booth be phone beeth?
If the teacher taught,
Why hasn't the preacher praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables,
What the heck does a humanitarian eat?
Why do people recite at a play,
Yet play at a recital?
Park on driveways and
Drive on parkways?
How can the weather be as hot as hell on one day
And as cold as hell on another?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language where a house
can burn up as it burns down,
And in which you fill in a form
By filling it out
And a bell is only heard once it goes!
English was invented by people, not computers,
And it reflects the creativity of the human race
(Which of course isn't a race at all.)
That is why:
When the stars are out they are visible,
But when the lights are out they are invisible.
And why it is that when I wind up my watch
It starts,
But when I wind up this poem
It ends.
