.
The Empirical Strikes Back
Let’s emulate Liberia
with measurements superior;
once more we’ll weigh our cereal
in ounce and pound imperial.
And why not copy Myanmar—
use p.s.i. and ditch the bar?
Farewell to Celsius’s scale,
let Fahrenheit’s degrees prevail.
We’ll mimic, too, the USA,
where inch and foot and yard hold sway.
Re-join our ancient, fabled roots;
swap forty-three for size nine boots.
The metric system’s made us dense,
so let’s use shillings, crowns and pence.
The past returns, what’s old is new,
like passports which again are blue.
First published in the Daily Mail on August 24th, 2022.
.
.
Paul A. Freeman is the author of Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel which was taught in Zimbabwean high schools and has been translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of hundreds of published short stories, poems and articles.
Very clever, Paul. Love it!
Glad I could entertain, Paul.
Wow Paul, this is brilliant, just as we turn the clocks back!!!
Yep, that turning the clocks back seems odd to people where I live, closer to the tropics, where the hours of daylight don’t vary much during the year.
Thanks for reading.
Echos of W.S. Gilbert. Funny!
High praise indeed. Thank you very much, Geoffrey.
Enjoyed very much for its rhythmic humor.
But, JD, what about its humorous rhythm?
Thanks for reading, JD, and glad you enjoyed the piece.
A very adroit poem on a subject that has had me puzzled for years. In elementary school they did their best to make us pupils learn the standard (English) units of measurement. But suddenly the metric system became important — nothing to memorize, just divide or multiply by ten. But that system just does not suit the Anglophone ear. Where can I order a pint of beer, and what of that person who, when given an inch, will take a mile? There is an aesthetic quality to the old measurements that the metric system simply cannot match. “I want my pound of flesh” is much better than “I want my half a kilogram of mammalian muscle tissue.” I hope we never get over it, but I guess I’m just a hopeless traditionalist. I’d walk a mile for a Camel.
The traffic inches along. A person can be pint-sized. We have inch worms, yardsticks to measure by, mile-high clubs, even.
I wonder how many of the phrases and objects described by empirical units are still known to, or commonly used by our younger generations. Metric was certainly a dumbing-down, mathematically, even if convenient.
Thanks for reading and for your thoughts, CB.
Paul, I loved your poem and it is spot-on. I hate metric because it has made me detest cooking, as told in this poem I wrote to get my frustration out:
Metric Madness
The metric system fills me with confusion
With confusion that grows deeper every day
It gets me agitated, it’s so very complicated
And it fills me with incredible dismay
Half my life I’ve spent living serenely
In a state I would describe as most ethereal
Then they changed the rules, those conniving callous fools
And now oh how I’m missing my Imperial
I have tried my very best to change my thinking
How to calculate ingredients and such
From one hundred and fifty gram to a pound and a half of lamb
But my aging brain can only do so much
Words cannot describe my utter loathing
For a system that is alien to my mind
I get so intimidated, weepy and exasperated
The powers that be are definitely unkind
Metric is confusing, how I loathe it
How I recoil from its supercilious stance
I don’t care about a decimal, much less stuff infinitesimal
The word milliliters puts me in a trance
I know I’m not alone in my objections
I do believe there’s many of my ilk
I see faces filled with doubt… seniors trying to figure out
How many cups are in a litre jug of milk
Some may say that I am full of paranoia
That my aging-addled brain has turned to dust
To the past I may be wedded, that I’m cranky and pig-headed
And quite possibly too stubborn to adjust
But perhaps there is a plot to shrink the masses
And metric will the population shave
I have come to the conclusion it’s designed to cause confusion
And to drive us boomers to an early grave!
Metric makes me shudder, it is ugly
And despite how hard I try, I cannot change
I might spend a half an hour, figuring out 10 grams of flour
The whole process leaves me feeling very strange!
Ounces, pints and quarts just make me happy
Inches, feet and yards can make me swoon
But my brain is sure to wear out, metric makes me tear my hair out
‘Twill be so until the sun invades the moon!
I sympathise entirely, Norma. I think the problem with metric is it’s simplicity takes the challenge out of activities like cooking and also dulls down the imagination when visualising quantities, lengths, temperatures, pressures, etc.
I’m fortunate in that the nature of my job involves knowing both the metric and the empirical system.
Thanks for reading and commenting and for posting your poem, Norma.
By any yardstick the old measures provided greater appeal than the boringly efficient metric replacements. Paul, I enjoyed this piece, and also the witty title.
Agreed, David. There’s a whole wealth of history, imagery and turns of phrase attached to empirical measures. We’ve traded in another facet of life for the easy / easier option.
Thanks for reading.