Lah, Leh, Lor: An Introduction to the Wonderful World

of Singlish
BY Sarah Liu
It’s no crime to use lah, leh, and lor. In fact, this energetic patois can enliven content and get the point across
better than any copywriter, says Novus Asia’s writer Sarah Liu

I was taught to not write the way that I speak. It’s

embarrassing. Don't lah. Use proper English. It’s
low-class. Not every Singaporean goes through
this, but my everyday struggle with words includes
reconciling the way that I write in Standard
English, with the seemingly clumsier and more
vulgar, spoken Singlish.

Not using Singlish? That’s an option, I guess. But

my preferred approach is to whip it out, lending
authenticity to a local context. When in Rome…

Because when it comes to languages, Singlish is

closest to my heart. It makes for colourful vocabulary (and fantastic swearing), but writing it goes beyond
simply dressing English sentences with lah, leh, and lor.

In fact, Singlish has its own set of rules. I’m no linguist, but if, like me, you insist on using Singlish when
writing, you must prepare to know and explain these rules—in English, of course.

1. Lah, leh, and lor are not sounds. The three ‘L’s are particles that have no lexical meaning on their own,
but are associated with another word or phrase to impart meaning or create a certain mood. What this means
is that they are not empty, miscellaneous sounds that people toss in for fun and games. Nor are they pointless
fillers in between proper sentence constructs. One does not simply use lah at his disposal.

Standard English:

“I doubt you will understand me if I use Singlish.”

Incorrect Singlish:

“When I talk to you lah, I reckon you won’t understand if I use Singlish lah.”

Correct Singlish:

“You understand Singlish meh?”

Still confused? Read on.

2. It’s about the nuances, such as where the word is placed, and what it modifies. The ‘L’ particles, for
instance, each convey a different emotion or mood. They are used for a reason. Here are a few examples.

Lah: A particle that can express exasperation or pleading. It can be attached to ‘please’ as in, “Please lah,
give up smoking. You have been coughing for months now.” Or as the generic, “Don’t like that lah,” she
says to her boyfriend who refuses to talk to her after a quarrel.

Leh: A largely negative particle that can turn: 1) a question into a statement; or 2) a sentence into an omen,
foreshadowing something bad. For example in, “Why leh. You aren’t happy with ‘us’?” Or, “Please leh. If
you don’t give it back, I’m going to tell mummy.”
 Lor: A particle that can be used to express general agreeability as in, “Ya lor, I oso[1] say.” It can also be
used for humble bragging, for instance in, “Please lor, I knew this riot would happen before the verdict was
out,” the police spokesperson tells me.

3. Words become archaic. If you’re writing about a time-specific topic, take care to use the right words
associated with the right era. Uncle Lim may talk about his childhood memories using words such as
tuckshop, wallop, kampong[2], and about the goli[3], and hantam bola[4] games he used to play.

But millennial YouTubers such as Noah Yap and Naomi Neo wouldn’t be caught dead using such dated
terms. It’s 2015, not 1965. It’s canteen, not tuckshop. It’s whack, not wallop. Digital devices have taken over
children’s lives. And we all know what became of kampongs.

4. It’s a polyglot’s nightmare. Singlish is the pulse of

Vocabulary
[1] Oso: Singlish for ‘also’
[2] Kampong: a village with many attap
houses within its compounds
[3] Goli: a game of marbles played by
using pitting one marble in your arsenal
against an opponent’s. Winner keeps the
loser’s marbles
[4] Hantam Bola: this game, known as ‘hit
ball’ in Malay, was played in schools from
the 1950s to 1970s, before students
somehow stopped playing it, perhaps for its
tendency towards violence and bully. It
involves hitting opponents at close range
[5] Rojak: a fruit and vegetable salad that
has cuttlefish, dough fritters, and dried
bean curd in it. It’s also an adjective that
describes different elements mixed into one
entity
[6] Tahan: Malay for ‘stand’ or ‘uphold’,
or in this context, ‘endure’ or ‘hold out’
[7] Haolian: a Hokkien word that describes
someone boastful.
[8] ‘Uncle’: a middle-aged man
[9] Wah piang: a polite way of saying wah
lau, a swear word
[10] Den: Singlish for ‘then’
Singapore’s cultural composition. It is English stewed with
Hokkien, Teochew, Cantonese, Tamil, and Malay into one
sweet melting pot of confusion. You could also describe it
simply as rojak[5].
Some languages are used more often than the others, though.
If you must pick which to learn, a typical Singlish
conversation would largely consist of English, Hokkien and
Malay, such as this one between a sergeant and Terry, a man
serving National Service.
Sergeant: Terry, run faster leh.
Terry: Sergeant, cannot tahan[6] already.
Sergeant: Haolian[7], thought you say can outrun me?
5. The shorter, the sweeter. Singlish comprises many
contracted sentences. Imagine two Singaporean aunties[8]
chatting over breakfast at the coffee shop. And it may be
farfetched, but let’s also imagine that these aunties are
fastidious about Queen’s English, and faultlessly read The
Elements of Style.
“How could it be? Didn’t you know that Tan passed away?”
“No, when did he?”
“I thought you knew! It was the day when it finally
rained, and the haze cleared.”

“I thought I saw him at the market.”

Now imagine the two aunties going at it in full Singlish.

“Wah piang[9], Tan up-lorry you don’t know meh?”

“When!”

“Raining then haze no more that day lah!”

“Den[10] who I see?”

Like copywriting, the point is to convey something, eye-catchingly and in the least amount of words —
that’s power. Meaning is often implied, which reduces the overall word count. Dramatic events can be
summed up faster than you can say, “tweet”. That’s why Singlish is the language of choice for the lazy, like
me.

(http://novusasia.com/ourvoice/lah-leh-lor-introduction-wonderful-world-singlish)