Phones are quite concrete, you see.
That’s why they’re neat as can be.
Enclose them in brackets,
Not those nasty slashes.
Handy! Now, don’t you agree?
A mark of sublime ingenuity
Is producing both swiftly and fluidly
To the point and direct,
Yet replete with divine ambiguities.
There once was a linguist named Beavis,
Whose syntactic practice was grievous,
Having phrases packed tight
With the complements right
But headedness picked to deceive us.
A man once wrote a copious tome,
On the mighty tongue of ancient Rome.
He veni’d and vidi’d
And scoured t’ graffiti,
And completely forgot his way home.
—Frédéric François Bémol
Two courting linguists always chat
From dawn to dusk, of this and that.
Of their young love be not remonstrative:
They can’t help being so demonstrative.
The two young linguists are courting still
As they wander together o’er dale and hill.
They share quite everything; but be not critical:
This reflexive love is clearly reciprocal.
Onwards and inwards; their love remains:
Strengthening links in love’s lengthening chains
With each in the other, a total immersion:
Embedded and infinite romance-recursion.
O, loving Linguists, pray reflect,
And nothing do without object.
Thus pleasure take and pleasure give;
The joys of life are transitive.
—Pete & Deak
Kara sinjor’ kaj amiko!
Jen la celo de cxio lingvistiko:
Kaj kiel diris Dio
En kia form’? Limeriko!