GROCERS’ PLURALS

IN MEMORY OF ST FRANCIS DE SALES


Apostrophes are everywhere

From Arial to Times

Often where they shouldn’t be

And even in some rhyme’s

 

Burger’s, tea’s and coffee’s too

And MOT’s abound

They’re now a fact of modern life

Just take a look around

 

No longer just for grocers

Apostrophes prevail

On goods of every size and shape

When more than one’s for sale

 

I doubt you’ve heard of Francis

Of Francis Sales, no less

The patron saint of writers

Who hates the stranded S

 

Each night his grave it trembles

In Gallic stony ground

For Francis though long sound asleep

Is turning round and round

 

Upon his headstone in the moon

The words will long abide

For those who know St Francis

And wonder how he died

 

THE GROCER AND HIS PLURAL

IT WAS THE DEATH OF ME

TWO OR MORE OF ANYTHING

NEEDS NO APOSTROPHE!

 

 

 

 

© UNCLEMAC 2020
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Sweetwater

I hate those wretched things, no matter how hard I try and believe me I really do I cannot get those little monsters right I wish they were all eliminated!
Very much enjoyed this poem it made me smile 🙂 Sue.

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