A Short Poem, Inspired By The Local Pronounciation of A Certain Location in London
by Jacob Sager Weinstein
One day, as the Queen walked through Leicester
Square, she ran into a jeicester
who fondled her cheicest.
She exclaimed, “I’ll be bleicest!”
then hanged the man as a moleicester.
Pure genius. Now do one about Worcestershire.
Hilarious!!!
JJ, I’d love to, but I’m not sure how Worcerstershire is pronounced. Is it WOOST-ershire? Or WHUST-ershire? Or something else entirely?
“Wooster,” innit?
Brilliant poem, Jacob. I’m passing this along…