Becky Mayhew, Young British Poet |
Elocution Lessons
Me Mam had her
voice knocked out of her
When they made the
move from Up North.
A grand little
lass with broad ‘ohh’s’ and ‘aa’s’
Submerged in the
South henceforth.
Her mouth spilled
air from the fresh green earth
Six year-old lips
curling round words
That were seized
by a teacher’s firm hand.
It didn’t take
long for the North to come out
Like a grass stain
lifting in’t wash.
She practised at
home, her new southern voice,
Me Granddad said,
‘Eee, you sound posh.’
Soon there was
nothing, no trace of the hills,
The cobbles, the
spires, or the sea.
Just good southern
vowels, rounded and clipped
That seeped
through the years down to me.
poem by Becky Mayhew; published online with permission of the author
Comments
There is not much I like better than good old-fashioned humorous poetry that rhymes and scans - a bit like my own, in fact!
Best wishes from Simon
Thanks for posting this! and the link to the interview. I had a similar experience to that related in the poem, though my movement was from south to north (from southern U.S. to northern U.S.) and my accent is still vaguely in play, and can be revved up at any time. Folks in grad school would literally fall out on the floor when I pronounced Othello like Ole Yeller.
Congratulations on your blog's longevity and richness. I just stumbled across it. Nicely done.
B.R.