I heard this poem recited by it’s author Les Barker at Saith Seren on Monday 17 December) and he kindly gave me permission to share it;
I’ve been trying for a while to learn Welsh,
The most difficult language I’ve met;
My friends say the source of my stumblings
Is obvious; that strange alphabet;
Pronunciation, they say, is the problem; Chs, double Ls; they’re unfair;
Not to mention the Us or the Ws orYs
But no; the problem’s elsewhere;
Words mutate; those that ought to start with an M
Will start with an F instead;
B can change to F or M;
It’s a mit of a mugger, as has often meen said.
Ps become MH or PH
Or Bs; don’t know why, but they do;
C can be CH, NGH or just G;
I chan’t gomprehend it; gan you? .
RH sometimes is just R;
T can be TH, NH or D;
G can be NG, or just disappear;
Futation’s a fystery to fe.
Double L becomes one L somehow;
D turns to double D or N;
I have thried and I’ve thried; I’ve thried dime after dime;
In phursuit of pherfection, I’m drying again.
I have dravelled on goach drips to Gardiff.
Gaught fusses to Mangor and Ryl;
I’m gomphletely gonfused in the glassroom;
Futation’s a fystery still.
It’s just a burposeless bastime,
Fore than a fere fortal can fear;
I spend nay after nay nelving neep in the nictionary
The words that I want are all in it, but where?
Wild chonsonants nrift through through the narkness
On churrents unknown to this phoet
And where they fay ddrift, there’s no delling;
It’s spelling, Jim, but not as we know it.