11 Massachusetts Town Names That Will Make Your GPS Have a Mental Breakdown

If Spell Bee Was Your Daily Life

The Bay State is infamous for its tongue-twisting town names that look nothing like they sound.

Before your next road trip through New England, impress the locals with this guide.

Honestly, we’re not sure it’ll help, but no harm in trying.

Rehoboth

Not “Ree-ho-both” — It’s “reh-HOH-bith”

Founded in 1643, Rehoboth sounds like it should be where Santa lives.

But locals know better.

The town may be known for its rural charm and strawberry festivals, but out-of-towners are known for butchering its name.

This historic town’s name comes from a Hebrew word meaning “broad places,” though there’s nothing broad about how narrowly people get the pronunciation right.

First-timers often go with “REE-ho-both” and get rewarded with those infamous New England eye-rolls.

Leicester

Not “Lie-chester” — It’s “LESS-ter”

If you said “LIE-sess-ter,” congratulations on being spectacularly wrong.

This town follows the British tradition of cramming way too many letters into a word, then pronouncing hardly any of them.

Leicester’s biggest claim to fame might be the birthplace of the American women’s rights movement, but the second one is having this minefield of a town name.

Berlin

Not “Ber-LIN” — It’s “BURR-lin”

This isn’t Germany, folks.

While the famous European capital emphasizes on the second syllable, this quaint farming community likes to be difficult.

Here’s a tip: if you’re stressing the “lin” instead of the “Ber,” you might as well be wearing a sign that says “I’m not from around here.”

Worcester

Not “Wor-chester” — It’s “WUSS-ter”

The granddaddy of Massachusetts pronunciation nightmares.

Home to Worcester Polytechnic Institute and the Worcester Art Museum, you’ll want to get this one right.

Worcester looks like it should have three syllables, but locals crush it down to two: “WUSS-ter.” Not “War-chester” or “Wore-sess-ter” – just “WUSS-ter.”

Scituate

Not “Sit-u-ate” — It’s “SIT-chew-it”

This coastal town’s name looks like a verb, but don’t let that fool you.

This picturesque seaside community has been mangling visitors’ attempts at small talk since 1636.

Scituate is pronounced “SIT-chew-it,” not “Sit-u-ate” like you’re stopping someone from getting seconds.

Cochituate

Not “Co-Chee-TWAT-tay” — It’s “ko-CHIT-chew-it”

If Scituate wasn’t confusing enough, meet its more complicated cousin.

Cochituate (ko-CHIT-chew-it) looks like it should have four syllables but somehow becomes a three-syllable tongue twister.

Located in Wayland, this former village deserves a gold medal for packing so many pronunciation problems into one name.

Billerica

Not “Bill-er-ica” — It’s “bill-RICK-uh”

No, it’s not an IKEA furniture line or a fancy calculator. Billerica is pronounced “bill-RICK-uh,” not “Bill-er-ee-ka” like some exotic destination.

If you’re planning to visit, just remember to squish those syllables together like you’re making a verbal sandwich.

Barre

Not “Bar” or “Bar-rey” — It’s “BERRY”

While it looks like it should rhyme with “car,” Barre is pronounced “Mary” but replace the “M” with “B.”

Not “bar,” not “bare,” and not “barr-ay” like you’re speaking fancy French.

Leominster

Not “Leo-minister” — It’s “LEMON-stir”

Birthplace of the plastic pink flamingo (really).

Leominster’s name is as quirky as its claim to fame. It’s “LEMON-stir,” not “Lee-o-minister.” Remember our golden rule: when in doubt, squish those syllables together and pretend some letters aren’t there.

Haverhill

Not “Haver-hill” — It’s “HAY-vrill”

One of the oldest cities in Massachusetts (established 1640) apparently couldn’t be bothered with all its syllables. What looks like “HAV-er-hill” is actually “HAY-vrill.”

You need to practically swallow that middle syllable.

Peabody

Not “Pea-body” — It’s “PEE-biddy”

Massachusetts is basically trolling us at this point.

This leather-industry powerhouse city incorporated in 1855 isn’t “PEE-body” like the famous awards, but “PEE-biddy” with that sneaky middle syllable.

Named after philanthropist George Peabody, this North Shore city demands you add an extra syllable that isn’t visibly there.