Francis Duggan Poems

I hope to be living for to welcome the Spring
And hear again the song the male blackbird does sing
His familiar song so melodious and clear
A beautiful voice of the Spring of the year
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In the Human World where some of money have more than enough
A few billion people are doing it tough
On a below poverty line income surviving from day to day
From birth to death destined for to live in this way
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The magpie larks call in the park by the bay
For June and early Winter such a beautiful day
And the familiar music so flute like and clear
Of the Aussie magpies who sing every day of the year
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Some writers write poems and stories and some writers write well
And even non writers have their own stories to tell
Of their lives adventures in an oral way
For to tell we all have our own stories as the wise one did say
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Eventually we all become victims of time
But the rhymer till death never runs out of rhyme
Forgetfulness comes with age when the best years are gone
But the rhymer loves to rhyme and the rhymer rhymes on
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An hour before sunrise of a Winter's day
The magpie is warbling in the dawn cool and gray
The familiar song so melodious and clear
Of the bird who does sing every day of the year
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As a young man from his first hometown in Duhallow he traveled far away
Billy Connors of Newmarket where might he be today?
Last met him in Clifton Hill in the mid nineties at the Normandy Hotel
Perhaps then in his early forties and looking healthy and well
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Self promotion may be the in thing of the day
But self praise is no praise as the wise one did say
Bragging no longer does seem a rare thing
Though you should leave it to others your praises to sing
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If you believe what a politician does say more likely than not you have believed a lie
For most politicians live by their lies and by their lies they will die
This is how they are and they always will be
Since honest politicians are known to be in a minority
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I have written the rhymes of the silver tongued rill
That babbles it's way down the fields by the hill
With a voice never silent by night and by day
It flows to the river to the sea far away
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