Francis Duggan Poems

He lives a lonely sort of life in Dunkeld's old brown lake
A black and white muscovy duck or should i say a drake
And every time i visit there he follows me around
As if i were a long lost friend that he at last had found,
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As dead as the dodo some say about rhyme
But then suppose everything does have it's time
The great rhyme poets and poetesses in their long rest now lay
They did have their innings one of them can say.
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He is a serial killer and awful things he has done
But his mother says he is not guilty and she stands by her son
A jury found him guilty but with their verdict she does not agree
She says my son is innocent i believe what he told me
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A booming economy Government spokes people say
And things looking better with each passing day
And you keep voting for us and you will be okay
Such are the games that politicians do play
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Crow sized white cockatoos and not seen everywhere
Though in the Southern Grampians they do not seem rare
With long down curved bills for digging for food in the ground
The calls that they utter not a pleasant sound
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Through fields and by ditches and by many a hedgerow
The Araglen down to the Blackwater flow
And on a tall beech tree the grey hooded crow
Is uttering his loud caw that is repetitive and slow.
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Some of them are not now with the living and some of them live distant from me
But them i will always remember the people i will never more see
Some of them i did not get on with we did look at life differently
But like my friends them i remember and like my friends they remain in my memory,
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Germaine Greer calls it as she sees it and public scorn she does not fear
She is a huge loss to Australia her thinking uncluttered and clear
She tells the truth as she does see it and her truth is not a popular thing
She doesn't laud legends or heroes and her praises few bother to sing.
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I feel happy to be with Nature alone in the wood by the hill
When the white backed magpie on the tall gum he opens his sivery bill
And pipes his own natural music so beautiful free flowing and clear
His wonderful song it is timeless and something quite pleasant to hear,
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I said my better rhyming days are gone
But he urged me to keep on penning on
You may be many years beyond your prime
But you are never too old for to rhyme
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