A story and complaint in stanzas.
There once was a boy named bobby
But people can be slightly snobby
Using his name
They played a game
Thus Bobby became – just obby.
.
Although fun to say,
And to their dismay,
The people weren’t happy with obby.
Instead they agreed
A reversal was in need
And so forth made a Bob out of Bobby.
.
And there remained Bob, once obby, once Bobby,
His name had been butchered
By a bad naming hobby
With a sad short name,
Just one syllable of fame
Bob was all that remained from those mean people’s game.
.
So listen and learn from the lesson I teach
A person’s name should be theirs - out of all other’s reach.
Don’t shorten or cut
Or splice letters in,
One letter to you – is a syllable to them
.
And if you take, that one sound away,
You’re changing that person in a tangible way.
That may be fine, if you want someone new,
But to keep the old, Bobby,
Let those letters be glue.
The B and the Y – just letters to you,
They make the name, that separates many from few.
