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Once there was a boy named Joe. There were lots of things he didn't know. He didn't know, for instance, how To drive a bus or milk a cow. He didn't know how to prune a tree, Or dance, or do geometry. But one thing Joe knew very well Was how to spell. If someone said, "Please spell hello." He'd say, "H-E-L-L-O." Or if they said, "Spell hat for me." He, of course, said, "H-A-T." People came from far and wide To hear young Joseph spell confide. "C-O-N-F-I-D-E," Joe would say most modestly. And folks would cry out, "Do another." Spell charade or toy or brother." And Joe, as easy as a breeze, Would spell, in turn, each one of these. Folks would ask, "How do you do it?" And Joe would say, "There's nothing to it." "But what's your secret?" they inquired, "Of spelling gravy or zebra or tired?" "Yes, tell us your method," teachers pleaded. "Good spelling is very badly needed." Even the principal begged him tell her How he became so great a speller. And so, at last, Joe had to tell them His key to words and how to spell them. "When I was small, I was not able To sit and reach the breakfast table. "Since Webster's was the thickest tome We had, unused, about our home, To raise me higher in the air, We used it for a booster chair. "And as days and weeks and months went by, The words I sat on seemed to fly Up through my body into my brain, And that is where they all remain. "I estimate each time I sat, A dozen words flew up and that As more and more rose up like birds, Soon I knew ten thousand words." Folks who heard this were astounded. To their bookshelves each one bounded And taking down the Webster's there, Placed it on a couch or chair And hoping to spell siege or bonnet Each one put their bottom on it. Doctors were, of course, amazed At this method, widely praised. They asked, of course, but Joe declined To let them study his behind. So the doctors, changing their itineraries, Went and sat on dictionaries And tested themselves each day to see Who was best at a spelling bee. And they pulled their hair and engaged in yelling When they saw no improvement in their spelling. And Joe would smile because he knew The Webster's story wasn't true. He learned to spell because he made A habit in the second grade: (And this is a secret, by the way.) [whisper] He would study a little spelling every day. He'd read lots of books above his level With difficult words like glint and bevel He'd circle the words he didn't know, And to make his spelling knowledge grow, With all the energy of a pup, One by one he'd look them up. This was a secret that Joe kept well, How he looked up words and learned to spell, But when asked, his story would never vary: "I learned by sitting on the dictionary." This tale has an amazing ending: Some of the people who'd been spending Time sitting on dictionaries Learned to spell trout and capillaries And other words they had not known, Like periwinkle and cologne. Publicly they would not tell How it was they learned to spell, But privately they would confess What you and I can easily guess: Their dictionaries were handy, so They looked up words they didn't know. And the doctors, full of hope and doubt, Are trying still to figure it out. |