This poem doesn’t rhyme though it looks like it does: br The line ends look similar but that’s not how it goes, br For, all along, the rhyme-scheme seems to suffer from a hiccough br When you look at it more closely and try to run it through. br I have chose with precision every terminal word br Since I’m trying quite hard as I wish to record br How foreigners struggle with this language of ours br As they try to understand it on the guided tours br For, just as they think they have reached the height br Of perfection with speech, they meet a heavy weight br Of confusion, which threatens to drive them to raving br When they try to complain about the trouble they’re having. br They try to question the sound of each little phrase br Which we English just laugh off, so blasé. br It’s enough to cause them a bitter heartbreak br When they hear how we British attempt to speak.