For the Defence

"This Cen-TEEN-ary," sez 'e --
Sez I, "You'll pardon me."
   (Perlite, like that, first off, and 'arf in laughter).
"You'll pardon me, I'm sure,"
I sez: "but, speakin' pure,
   Cen-TEN-ary, I think's, the word you're after."

"Cen-TEEN-ary!" sez 'e;
An' looks fair, bang at me
   All sort of snakey-eyed an' irritated.
Sez I, "Don't be absurd,
For the dictionary word
   Is Cen-TEN-ary.  It's much more edjacated."

"Cen-TEEN-ary!!" sez 'e.
Some'ow, 'e seemed to be
   The sorta bloke wot gits me back up proper.
"Aw, brush yer brains!" sez I,
Gettin' 'ot.  (I dunno why.)
   "Cen-TEN-ary!" I sez.  "You darn clod-'opper!"

"Cen-TEEN-ary!!!" sez 'e,
As snarky as could be.
   (You know the sorta bloke I mean -- pig-'eaded).
"Cen-TEN-ary, you fool!
Ain't you never been to school?"
   Sez I.  An' then things 'appened -- like I dreaded.

"Cen-TEEN-ary!!!" sez 'e.
An' 'e swings a left at me
   That would 'a' knocked me cold, if it 'ad landed.
"Ho!  A gentleman!" I sneers;
"Full of nice, perlite idears."
   Then I ups an' tears right into 'im, two-'anded.

"Cen-TEEN-ary," squeaks 'e.
(Still obstinit, yeh see).
   Well, it weren't no time for bein' tender-'arted,
So I spreads 'im on the floor,
An' 'e never sez no more ....
   So, please yer Worship, that was 'ow it started.