Biography of Francis Duggan
- We All Have Our Hobbies -new-
- Do Not Take Yourself Too Seriously As So... -new-
- On Hearing A Magpie Singing -new-
- I Can Only Visualize -new-
- Though Your Worth As A Writer -new-
- I Do Feel Quite Lucky As Lucky As Can Be -new-
- Leave Them To Karma -new-
- In The World Many Good People -new-
- In Sports As In Life The Best Can Be Bea... -new-
- The Man Who Hangs In There -new-
- Annie Kate -new-
- Far South Of The Smoky And The Noisy Str... -new-
- A Rhymer At Best Is The Best I Can Be -new-
- The Hard Working Man -new-
Francis Duggan Poems
Racism Is Around Me Everywhere
Of human ignorance I am almost in despair For racism is around me everywhere But like they say sheer ignorance is bliss Just like Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss.
A Beautiful Day
In the blue sky just a few specks of gray In the evening of a beautiful day Though last night it rained and more rain on the way And that more rain is needed 'twould be fair to say
A Ballad Of Wasted Years
I have walked through tougher Harlem where few strangers dare to go And I've been in London City in the rain and in the snow And I've worked in inner Melbourne in the searing summer heat And believe me if I tell you I have earned the bread I eat.
A Beautiful Person With A Heart Of Gold
She sees things of beauty in all that she see And what's beautiful to her seems ugly to me What to her is a flower to me is a weed We do seem so different so different indeed.
The Sound Of Laughter
The sound of laughter is a thing of beauty for laughter spreads the very gift of joy That people they are drawn to happy people is not that hard for to understand why Since everybody wishes to be happy and laughter it spreads happiness around And only the heartless could not like the sound of laughter for laughter is a very happy sound,
Behind the facade of our big egos we constantly do hide And pride of five letters is only that just pride And some will even tell you pride comes before a fall From life we have been learning from before we learned to crawl,
A Beautiful Person
She has little money to enjoy or spend But to other people she is a good friend To help out her poverty line neighbours she goes out of her way And for her assistance she never asks for pay.
A Beautiful Morning In May
The bluebells adorn the ditch of the bohreen And on the hedgerows and in leafy groves of Dereen The songbirds are singing in the dawning gray Just before sunrise on a beautiful day
A Beautiful Evening
A Beautiful evening in March in the early Fall The magpies are fluting the corellas call And the red wattlebirds on the blossoming trees Their loud cacklings carrying in the freshening breeze.
Your Friend A Friend For Lifetime
Acquaintances are many but friends are very rare For with a true and trusting friend your secrets you can share Your friend will comfort you and advise you and you will not betray Your friend will never disown you and as your friend will stay
When Children Lose Their Innocence
The innocence of childhood it is a marvellous thing And all children are untainted in their life's early Spring But by the time they've reached their teens their innocence they've lost And the experience that we gain from age always comes at a cost.
Some one mentioned the 'Holocaust' the old Jewish man said 'no' Such word i do not wish to hear that happened years ago Then he slowly folded up his sleeve and numbers etched in blue Told of the sufferings he'd known and all he had been through.
This Is The Football Season
This is the football Season it is that time of year When men in the pub talk football as they enjoy their beer And look forward to September when one club will fly the winner's flag The team that wins the Premiership gives their fans the right to brag.
A Beautiful Day In Winter
A beautiful day in Winter with warmth in the sunlight And the clouds in the blue sky so woolly like and white And the white backed magpie piping on high branch of tall pine tree A great day for to be alive and life's okay with me.
Return Of The Redwings
O'er hills and fields and moonlit rural town
The redwings in their thousands journey down
From cold northlands to southern places bound
Again they fly back to their wintering ground
In early November I can still recall
In colder weather towards end of the Fall
Of hearing redwings in the starry sky
The migrant thrushes give voice as they fly.