Al
There's an Anerican version of The Golden Vanitee which has the lines:
Some were playing cards, some were playing dice
And some were standing 'round giving good advice"
That's vernacular poetry at its best.
I served my apprenticeship on the docks in Liverpool; in the dinner breal the electricians would play chess while the the rest of the scruffs - fitters, labourers.... would play draughts or crib.
THe fist time I heard that verse my mind sprang back to every game I watched during those dinner breaks That's high poetry.

There's an Irish folk tale which sums up what I'm trying to get at perfectly

"What is the finest music in the world?" asked Fionn of his son Ois?n.
"The cuckoo calling from the tree that is highest in the hedge," he answered.
They went around the room and each told what music they believed to be finest. One said the bellowing of a stag across the water, another the baying of a tuneful pack of hounds heard in the distance, and others believed the finest music to be the song of a lark, the laughter of a happy girl, or the whisper of a moved one.
"They are good sounds all," said Fionn
"Tell us," one of them asked him, "What do you think"?
"The music of what happens," said Fionn, "that is the finest music in the world."
Jim Carroll