|Shu:||Come in, mate. Cun you make any sense of this poem?|
|Ella:||Blymme if I make heads err tails of it.|
|Jack:||Suckers me! I have no idea what the bloddy bugger 'z about!|
|Juanita:||I suppose it was wrutten by one of dem pseudo-modernists.
or perhaps by some lousy mystical kraut.