Hello Jeff, This post did spark a thought, so here it goes...
A long while back I heard a long traditional poetic recitation said to be in the voice of a forthrightly-spoken old Gaelic woman... I do not remember much of it, but a line to the effect that "the lovely men of that village coming down to the fair, their eyes like fire and their cocks like sharpening stones..." was unforgettable... ;)
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This post did spark a thought, so here it goes...
A long while back I heard a long traditional poetic recitation said to be in the voice of a forthrightly-spoken old Gaelic woman... I do not remember much of it, but a line to the effect that "the lovely men of that village coming down to the fair, their eyes like fire and their cocks like sharpening stones..." was unforgettable... ;)
Especially when the term "sharpening stone" evokes a material object (see it here - https://www.lenehans.ie/worldwide-surfacemaster-cigar-scythe-stone-305.html) rather different to the more squarish item evoked by the word "whetstone".
Make of this what you will. :)
Enjoying a read back of some of your essays, by the way.