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I must be pretty dense
to think that plurals should make sense,
although, in my defense,.
to this our tongue makes no pretense.

If we call two mouses mice,
why aren’t twenty houses hice?
(And wouldn’t it be nice
if all our spouses could be spice?)

Inconsistency is rife 
when knives are multiples of knife
and wives evolve from wife,
but fifes and strifes from fife and strife.

I’m not sure even Zeus
knows why a herd of moose are moose
but geese a gang of goose.
It’s all confoundedly abstruse.

Perhaps the past interred
some lucid plurals less absurd
in hopes we might be spurred
to cherish every quirky word.