The TRAP-BATH split
Steadfast and pervasive,
From its bases out of Cockney mouths,
Across the South, and heading North,
Until it’s passed the Firth of Forth.
But out here in the town of Bath,
A person’s class can’t half be grasped
By how that very name is rasped –
In the lingual aftermath.
Though still it’s a disaster, lad,
It’s bad, and sad, and maddening –
Though gladdening that ays are stronger
When the traps are sprung for longer.
Slathering from out our lungs,
A psalm to answer rank or shah –
This split is cast upon our tongues,
To dance the Mardi Gras.
The use of ‘ays’ in the poem is a reference to multiple copies of the first letter of the alphabet.
I notice that the London version of this vowel is steady taking over the West Country. Perhaps the decades of racist ridicule that its accent has suffered has subconsciously hot home ?
Rhyming Couplets 