A correspondant, a noted crime writer, contacted me today re. my Sylvia Plath clerihew, which I recited to him a few years ago, in a taxi up to Lumb Bank after a few beers in Hebden Bridge, and with which I’ve managed to cause a great deal of upset over the years.  I sent him the text, after some umm-ing and aah-ing, because I couldn’t work out how to write a lisp. So it’s the first time I’ve written it down, and I’m open to ideas which might improve the written version.

The text reads

Thylvia Plath

Had a taytht for gath.

Thsee couldn’t thtop thmelling

Her Baby Belling.

Fans of the Belling range of cookers will write and point out that they don’t make a gas version of the legandary ‘Baby’. I know, and I’m sorry.

3 Responses

  1. Martin says:

    Brings to mind the old Dr Hook classic, Thylvia’s Mother. “… ‘coth Thylvia ith tharting to rain.”

  2. Paul Williams says:

    or she didnt care to hear her babies yelling…

  3. Richard says:

    How about if the poem’s all standard spelling except for ‘gath’? The joke still stands, but is more snappy. No? The great Ogden Nash was never against inconsistency for the sake of a rhyme – and look what happened to him.

    You did ask.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *