Funny that two of the greatest wordists,
lexicographers, verbophiles,
should have been a Fowler and a Partridge.
The Fowler, checking the twittering words,
charting our modern usage, with no time
for absurd old rules; a wise old bird.
And the Partridge, that saucy bird,
standing for slang, rejoicing in choice curses,
always game for the gutter words,
the forces' favourite phrases.
How funny, how fitting, for words are birds
uneasily caged and carpeted, best left
to fly, but sometimes needing the fowler's jesses.
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