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Poem	There was a man in New York City (His name was George Adolphus Knight) So soft of heart he wept with pity To see our language and its plight. He mourned to see it sorely goaded With silent letters left and right; These from his own name he unloaded And wrote it Georg Adolfus Nit. Six other men in that same city Who longed to see a Spelling Heaven Formed of themselves a strong committee And asked Georg Nit to make it seven. He joined the other six with pleasure, Proud such important men to know, Agreeing that their first great measure Should be to shorten the word though. But G. Adolfus Nit was lazy; He dilly-dallied every day; His life was dreamy, slow and hazy, And indolent in every way. On Monday morn at nine precisely The six reformers (Nit not there) Prepared to simplify though nicely, And each was eager for his share. Smith bit the h off short and ate it; Griggs from the thoug chewed off the g; Brown snapped off u to masticate it, And tho alone was left for three. Delancy’s teeth broke o off quickly; From th Billings took his t, And then the h, albeit prickly, Was shortly swallowed by McGee. This done, the six lay back in plenty, Well fed, they picked their teeth and smiled, And lazy Nit, about 10:20, Strolled in, as careless as a child. “Well, boys,” he said, “where’s the collation? I’m hungry, let us eat some though.” “All gone!” they said, and then Starvation, (Who is not lazy) laid Nit low. Nit trembled, gasped, and, as the phrase is, Cashed in his checks, gave up his breath, And turned his toes up to the daisies— His laziness had caused his death! Warning Spelling reformers should make haste. If each reformer wants a taste.
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