Francis Duggan Poems

Leah a name she adopted Leah was not her first name
And in the Country she came from she is an object of shame
She chose Leah because she liked it and that's the name she now goes by
And she came here as an exile and as an exile she will die.
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In life, sports and business one does have to say
That of winners and losers we hear of every day
The self same old stories we've been hearing for years
Joy and laughter for some and for the others tears
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'Tis true what is said about people that everyone has a life story to tell
Though not everybody's life story in book form a million copies would sell
The biography of a poor homeless person many would not be interested to read
Life's journey from the poorest suburb to success for most people never lead
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'Twas not the streams and hills that brought me back home
Or the marvellous scenery of the countryside
No it is something that I cannot explain
For my years of absence I have felt inside.
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The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
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A lover of Edith Piaf the famed French singer yet in his own right he was quite some man
And those who know of the history of boxing would know of the story of Marcel Cerdan
From thirty four to forty nine out of one hundred and ten fights just four losses four fights it has been said he should have won
One of the great middleweights of his era the French Algerian he was next to none.
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Every serious offender deserve to serve out time
But to be born where human rights does not exist ought not to be a crime
They came here escaping harassment only to be locked away
And may you enjoy your freedom mate on this Australia Day.
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A knot in your stomach and your health in a mess
And it has been somewhile since you've known happiness
And your worrying over problems do not make them less
And your life is controlled by the thing known as stress.
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'Twas Shane who gave the spotted dove to me
That he'd found by the Pittosporum tree
From upper branch she'd fallen to the ground
Though predator he had not seen around.
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The sanderlings run up and down the bay
And from incoming waves they run away
And then race back invertebrate to eat
As soon as the waves commence to retreat.
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