Englishish Poem by Ima Ryma

The sounds we hear of what we've heard,
We try to catch and once so caught,
We feel we're near to that what's nerd -
Within our snatch, but then it's snaught.
The teachers teach what has been taught,
The way to speak like others spoke,
To blindly preach as others praught.
The lessons squeak with sounds that squoke.
We learn to write the words they wrote -
Make senses sink where such are sunk.
No use to spite what has been spote.
Whatever we think, others thunk.

Somebody told someone do telled,
Words to behold, words to be helled.