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The Wood Pile: Donald Finnegan

A rhythmic journey into tawdry trumpery.
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“There is an old man called Donald Finnegan

His widespread tariffs will Make America Great Agin

Trade wars, jobs lost, inflation up Agin –

Poor old Donald Finnegan”. Begin Agin.

I cannot decide if this is an Irish song or a lullaby. Its beauty lies in its being readily parodied and it has a catchy tune. My version came into an empty mind and has been expanded to many verses more than enough to fill this Wood Pile article. I challenge you to send us your efforts which may or may not be published or simply used for further inspiration.

There is so much activity on the political scene, and one can’t make sense of it all. Mr. Trump has made a major error by applying his tariffs to literally all that is imported into the U.S. Should he have limited the application to a few industries or specific imports without risking an economic recession, then the program would have been understandable and perhaps provoked only limited responses. A narrow application of import restraint would have been internationally sensible and again perhaps acceptable.

The name “Trump” is not entirely original and has no particular significance. The word “Trumpery” is said to have appeared in Shakespeare, but I can find no reference. It means trashy baubles or jewellry. The word “Trumpian” is creeping into common parlance. To me it means brash dismissiveness, but you can define it as you wish. Mr. Carney’s flourish when signing his OIC ending the carbon tax on fuel was Trumpian and copycat. Why has he gone off to Europe instead of first meeting with all the Premiers is unexplained – he should have held such a meeting followed by going to the Oval office – or is he apprehensive?

I have always had a great liking for the Irish people who are musical and gifted with amusing satire. I hope no one missed St. Patrick’s Day when everything has to be green which would, of course, please Mr. Carney and Mr. Guilbeault, our new minister of Canadian Culture and Identity, Parks Canada and Quebec Lieutenant.

Here is the last verse to my song –

“There was an old man called Donald Finnegan

Prices up, and markets down Agin

Not to worry, he won’t get in Agin –

Poor old Donald Finnegan”.

Please note that all verses have to be written in strict iambic pandemic or pentameter.

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