Francis Duggan Poems

Edna Jaques was a poet of Ontario she was one ofCanada best
And surely the proof of her greatness is that her poems have withstood the time test
Her beautiful lyric poetry today read by many with words she is one who had a way
By four decades of time her poems have outlived her she is a literary legend today
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There is far more to human inequality than race gender, color or creed
If you think about it so much indeed
Privilege of birth and money and material possessions a major cause of social rank
For this human World of inequality we have them for to thank
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They are such a huge waste of energy and time
And are only known for sowing the seeds that can lead one to serious crime
Anger and jealousy and hatred cast a dark cloud on the mind
And any positive word of them to say seems impossible to find
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The sun is not shining on Maldon today
Behind the gray clouds it is hidden away
But the flute like warbling is pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
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There is nobody perfect as most would agree
But some are nearer to perfect than others is how it seems to be
That perfection is something anyone cannot achieve
Is obviously clear and easy to believe
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So lucky the people who are not well known
One can say of them they have lives of their own
None for to applaud them and none to drag them down
As they live their quiet lives on their side of the town
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Those who to speak the truth for some personal reason are quite uninclined
Condemn themselves to live with guilt of the mind
A guilt from them that will not go away
For as long as their hidden truth with them will stay
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Fame has passed me by and me did not embrace
And I'm a stranger where I live and mine is a strange face
To people of the town that I meet every day
We pass each other by without a word to say
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For the general public so little respect they do show
They only tell us what they want us to know
They constantly pull the wool over our eyes
They must be the masters at secrets and lies
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Through the fields the old Finnow bank high did flow
And Clara hill was wearing his hat of snow
And a cold north wind from the mountains did blow
On the day I left Millstreet two decades ago
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