Paddy No One Noone he writes, one night, tongue out, as No one For a laugh in Longsight, on a split beer mat With a betting shop pen. ‘Noone – It’s No one – the name – you know – Noone.’ But No one saw Paddy Noone shadowed below In the shuttering, taking a leak amongst The steel; the bucket swung and Casey from Carlow Concreted him in. No sound, new no shout, no one Missed Noone, a navvy on the lump. No records kept, no questions asked; They thought he’d jacked, had slung His hook for a better rate on the new by-pass. The woman at the digs bins his few clothes, His rosary; and a wife on Achill watches down the road, And tells the children that there’ll be post soon From Manchester, from Daddy, no one, Noone.