As promised, I tried to stick to the full on rules and structure of an Irish poetry style. Oh my sweet FSM what an ordeal. I give much respect to those who can write in the styles of Ireland all the time, because it's not easy. I felt my eyes crossing more than once as I penned tonight's Rionnaird Tri-Nard.
It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, my afternoon shift counterpart left without the usual tirade about something. But we still had a few things to do, despite the rain.
Rainy Town, Quiet Night
Rain fell hard with winds high
I sat to wait for he
No talking time for me
Heads for home; we were free
Young man makes mother sad
Dad was also angry
Counselled kid; think ahead
of others. Mom thanks me
Walking/driving downtown
No one out, all is well
I do tell, drunks are Hell
None to tell, in our dell
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