My mother wrote this for me when I was about five. I can't remember after 69 years whether she was the original author, although she was a Cambridge English grad and taught me much of what I learned of the language until high school. It is a hilarious exposition of just a few homonyms (words spelled differently but having the same sound) and heteronyms (the reverse) in our language, which has many times more than in any other, and sends foreign students of the language mad:
I take it you already know,
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
On hiccough, thorough, lough and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps.
Beware of heard, a dreadful word,
That looks like beard and sounds like bird,
And dead; it’s said like bed, not bead,
For goodness sake don’t call it “deed.”
Watch out for meat and great and threat,
They rhyme with suite and straight and debt.
A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth in brother.
And hear is not a match for there,
Nor dear and fear for near and pear.
And then there’s dose and rose and lose,
Just look them up, and goose and choose.
And cork and work and card and ward.
And font and front and word and sword.
And do and go and thwart and cart.
Come come, I’ve hardly made a start!
A dreadful language, man alive!
I’d mastered it when I was five.