You’re talking like a Cockney. . .
Not as they’re talking out at Ascot.
Your ’at phonemically stripped of H; that’s why
I march in to have you taught.
You say ’un, ’igh, ’aunt, and ’ear ya—
It’s my talk that you’ll par-rot.
Damn, you’re a girl screeching, “’ey, ’e ’angs ’arder,
“’ey, ’e ’angs ’arder.” And. . .

You’re so plain, deliciously low, horribly dirty.
“Rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain”; let’s get working,
Girl, no shirking.

“You ’ad me several years ago”
Sounds stylistically naïve.
What you say has such a non-pretty air
That you’re causing me to grieve.
When you bray, “’aversham,” your enun-
ciation’s paining me.
I want to scream, ’cause you’re loud and obnoxious,
Loud and obnoxious, and. . .

You’re a pain; enunciate “rain,” “plain,” “Spain!” I shout; you
Just complain. I could do so very well without you,
Lout, you, shout, you.

I want to scream, ’cause you’re loud and obnoxious,
Wow, it is noxious! And. . .

Your refrain of “rain,” “plain,” “Spain!” comes out of your mouth rude-
ly; my plaint: I could do so very well without you,
Lout, you, shout, you

When I hear you talk of ’ighing to ’ampshire,
Your coarseness, naturally, stuns.
When you ’ew your ’eaped ’ens and then ’ave a lamb shear,
I go totally ballistic (not guns!).
I’m embarrassed with you all the time—
Something has got to give:
You’ve much to learn; why, for my life, did I go mend
Rife gaffes that you send? Damn!

I’m so pained. You wretch, can’t you say hung not shout ’ung; you
Give me pain; your retching sounds will cause me to knout you,
Knout you, knout you. . .

Metaphorically speakin’, o’ course, ’on.
’ave another go at it.