Today, my toiling masses, you must memorize and recite the following P.G. Wodehouse poem to your family at dinner:<\/p>\n
PRINTER\u2019S ERROR<\/p>\n
As o\u2019er my latest book I pored,
Enjoying it immensely,
I suddenly exclaimed \u2018Good Lord!\u2019
And gripped the volume tensely.
Golly!\u2019 I cried. I writhed in pain.
\u2018They\u2019ve done it on me once again!\u2019
And furrows creased my brow.
I\u2019d written (which I thought quite good)
\u2018Ruth, ripening into womanhood,
Was now a girl who knocked men flat
And frequently got whistled at\u2019,
And some vile, careless, casual gook
Had spoiled the best thing in the book
By printing \u2018not\u2019
(Yes,\u2019not\u2019, great Scott!)
When I had written \u2018now\u2019.<\/p>\n
On murder in the first degree
The Law, I knew, is rigid:
Its attitude, if A kills B,
To A is always frigid.
It counts it not a trivial slip
If on behalf of authorship
You liquidate compositors.
This kind of conduct it abhors
And seldom will allow.
Nevertheless, I deemed it best
And in the public interest
To buy a gun, to oil it well,
Inserting what is called a shell,
And go and pot
With sudden shot
This printer who had printed \u2018not\u2019
When I had written \u2018now\u2019.<\/p>\n
I tracked the bounder to his den
Through private information:
I said, \u2018Good afternoon\u2019, and then
Explained the situation:
\u2018I\u2019m not a fussy man,\u2019 I said.
\u2018I smile when you put \u201crid\u201d for \u201cred\u201d
And \u201cbad\u201d for \u201cbed\u201d and \u201choad\u201d for \u201chead\u201d
And \u201cbolge\u201d instead of \u201cbough\u201d.
When \u201cwone\u201d appears in lieu of \u201cwine\u201d
Or if you alter \u201cCohn\u201d to \u201cSchine\u201d,
I never make a row.
I know how easy errors are.
But this time you have gone too far
By printing \u201cnot\u201d when you knew what
I really wrote was \u201cnow\u201d.
Prepare,\u2019 I said, \u2018to meet your God
Or, as you\u2019d say, your Goo or Bod,
Or possibly your Gow.\u2019<\/p>\n
A few weeks later into court
I came to stand my trial.
The Judge was quite a decent sort.
He said, \u2018Well, cocky, I\u2019ll
Be passing sentence in a jiff,
And so, my poor unhappy stiff,
If you have anything to say,
Now is the moment. Fire away.
You have?\u2019
I said, \u2018And how!
Me lud, the facts I don\u2019t dispute.
I did, I own it freely, shoot
This printer through the collar stud.
What else could I have done, me lud?
He\u2019d printed \u201cnot\u201d\u2026\u2019
The judge said, \u2018What!
When you had written \u201cnow\u201d?
God bless my soul! Gadzooks!\u2019 said he.
\u2018The blighters did that once to me.
A dirty trick, I trow.
I hereby quash and override
The jury\u2019s verdict. Gosh!\u2019 he cried.
\u2018Give me your hand. Yes, I insist,
You splendid fellow! Case dismissed.\u2019
(Cheers, and a Voice \u2018Wow-wow!\u2019)<\/p>\n
A statue stands against the sky,
Lifelike and rather pretty.
\u2018Twas recently erected by
The P.E.N. committee.
And many a passer-by is stirred,
For on the plinth, if that\u2019s the word,
In golden letters you may read
\u2018This is the man who did the deed.
His hand set to the plough,
He did not sheathe the sword, but got
A gun at great expense and shot
The human blot who\u2019d printed \u201cnot\u201d
When he had written \u201cnow\u201d.
He acted with no thought of self,
Not for advancement, not for pelf,
But just because it made him hot
To think the man had printed \u201cnot\u201d
When he had written \u201cnow\u201d.\u2019<\/p>\n
That is all.<\/p>\n