The Old Paddywhack
A Limerick
Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy. —W.B. Yeats
If one could only teach the English how to talk and the Irish how to listen, society…would be quite civilized. —Oscar Wilde
If there were only three Irishmen in the world you'd find two of them in a corner talking about the other. —María Brandán Aráoz
Above: Guinness, for strength!
There once was an old Paddywhack.
He was stooped by a crick in his back.
With a Guinness in hand,
He stood—toasting the band.
And his crick was then crack’d by good craic.
Per my about page, White Noise is a work of experimentation. I view it as a sort of thinking aloud, a stress testing of my nascent ideas. Through it, I hope to sharpen my opinions against the whetstone of other people’s feedback, commentary, and input.
If you want to discuss any of the ideas or musings mentioned above or have any books, papers, or links that you think would be interesting to share on a future edition of White Noise, please reach out to me by replying to this email or following me on Twitter X.
With sincere gratitude,
Tom
There was a young lady named Rose
Who had a huge wart on her nose
When she had it removed
Her appearance improved
But her glasses now slipped to her toes.
Sorry, Tom, that’s the only G-rated one I can remember that does not include the word “buck”.
Somehow I had never come across that Yeats quote. That's fantastic!