Francis Duggan Poems

From South America to China and from New Zealand to Japan
In the old Town of Dandenong live every race of man
The Africans, the Asians, the Americans and Vietnamese,
The Russians and Italians and the Greeks and Lebanese.
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You have heard of William Wordsworth he was bard of Cockermouth
And he truly was a great poet if that ever was in doubt
And with Southey and With Coleridge they became known as the lake poets
And they made the Lake District famous and some famous poems they wrote.
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She was such a lovely lady so dependable and true
I have never known her equal kinder soul I never knew
Since she died I feel so lonely life for me doesn't seem the same
Without Kate my foster mother dearest heart of Chestnut Lane.
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Hard enough prison confinement without the bitter memory
Of my long dead murdered father like a spectre haunting me
Every night I dream about him here in my gloomy prison cell
I'd be best off dead and buried and suffering with the damned in hell.
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I long for a sunny place where it is shady far from this street of heavy traffic noise
Where birds are singing on the gums and wattles and from flowering shrub to bush fair butterflies
Display the beauty on their wings whilst in flight their purple, pink and red and blue and gold
They flit around the wildering flowers of Nature a thing of beauty is a joy to behold.
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The favourite weapon used by some Governments is fear and they use fear in many a different way
The fear of torture suffering and death and the fear of terror we hear of every day
And it's sad to think that people do believe them and believe everything that they have to say
The World is ruled by those expert at fear mongering by ageing men who in dyes hide their gray.
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Jack would not sell his dog not even for a billion he says my dog Joe is just not for sale
One cannot buy such things as trust and loyalty and in such tests my best mate never fail
A bone from the butcher and a can of dog food that seems to fulfil his needs every day
For his companionship and his undying devotion that does not seem such a big price to pay.
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The morning is bright and sunny it is a pleasant day
And magpie larks are calling on trees not far away
And sparrows in the sunshine chirp on the young pine trees
And there is a sort of freshness in the freshening coastal breeze.
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The poesy inspiration to her comes easily
The poetess from Sunderland by the Atlantic sea
Sharing with the universe her great gift of joy
She will live forever her sort never die.
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Rich green fields stretch on either side of the Blackwater
Grazed on by cattle fit for slaughter
Dark brown waters flows slowly along
And orange breasted robin carols his song.
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