IV
Those authors I can never love
Who write, "It fit him like a glove."
Though baseballs may be hit, not "hitted,"
The past of "fit" is always "fitted."
The sole exception worth a haricot
Is "Joshua fit de battle ob Jericho."
V
Coin brassy words at will, debase the coinage;
We're in an if-you-cannot-lick-them-join age,
A slovenliness-provides-its-own-excuse age,
Where usage overnight condones misusage.
Farewell, farewell to my beloved language,
Once English, now a vile orangutanguage.
The theme of the poem is wrapped up with a bow on it in these last two lines: English, once a noble and fascinating language, has devolved into grunts and groans that might be emitted by our simian cousins. 

Laments for a Dying Language