I read this recently. It was in a book that im not going to name because i dont want anyone else to suffer the mix of emotions i did when reading it.
T. S. W in a letter to The Sunday Times in January 1965:
I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
On hiccough, thorough, laugh and through.
Well done! And now you wish perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word,
That looks like beard and sounds like bird,
And dead: it’s said like bed, not bead –
For goodness’ sake don’t call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suit and straight and debt)
A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth or brother,
And here is not a match for there
Nor dear and fear for bear and pear,
And then there’s dose and rose and lose –
Just look them up – and goose and choose,
And cork and work, and card and ward,
And font and front, and word and sword,
And do and go, and thwart and cart –
Come, come, I’ve hardly made a start!
A dreadful language? Man alive!
I’d mastered it when I was five!
The English language is so cool.
Yes you can label me a nerd for that.