Use Strong Verbs: a Fairy Tale By Allan Metcalf

True strong verbs don’t change tense by wagging their little tails. No, strong verbs flex their interior muscles, changing vowels to show the change of tense, like this: I break (present tense), yesterday I broke (past tense), I have broken (past participle).


Who says this makes them strong? Jacob Grimm, that’s who. Yes, half of the Brothers Grimm of fairy tale fame. He was the first to call them strong—strong because they manage to change their shapes with their own interior strength rather than needing the help of a tacky little ending.


For a language composed of true strong verbs, you have to go way back in history, back even before our Anglo-Saxon linguistic ancestors came over from the continent of Europe and kicked around the poor Celts.


This is the story:


Once upon a time, thousands of years ago, the great-grandparent of the English language had nothing but strong verbs. In those days when Germanic (yes, English is a Germanic language) tribes roamed the forests primeval, there was no room for weaklings.


But then, still a long time ago, another kind of inflection infected the verbs. Somebody started adding the equivalent of did to form the past tense and past participle of verbs, putting a little tail on them rather than letting them flex their vowels. Get it? Walk + did = walked.


So most of the formerly strong verbs weakened. For example, help, holp, holpen became help, helped, helped, and laugh, lough, laughen became laugh, laughed, laughed.


Even today the weaklings continue to nibble away at the hundred or so verbs that still remain strong. Fly is an example. In the 19th century, when that verb was put into play for the new sport of baseball, it became weak: instead of He flew out or He has flown out, a broadcaster will say He flied out, He has flied out.