I’ll tell you the thing that I’m after
Is to know how to pronounce “aughter,”
‘Cause sometimes I think that it oughter
Actually be said as “aughter.”
I gleefully and with glad laughter
Happily decide that it’s aughter;
Then I see my head-shaking daughter,
And my voice reverts back to aughter.
Between this rock and hard place I’m caught,
As my trembling heart with fear is fraught,
And I’m blown about in this strange draught
Where everyone jeers, points, and laughed.
I’m afraid that this quest that I’ve sought
Will most certainly all come to naught,
‘Cause pronouncing the way that I ought
Often goes against all I’ve been taught.