Francis Duggan Poems

The songs of the old poet I remember from the Land of the gray hooded crow
A man who had seen many Seasons and of Nature's ways much he did know
His rhymes had far more depth in them than jingles and his words with me do remain
And his songs in my heart are singing they take me to past times again.
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In the Ireland I grew up in many lived in poverty
But Nowadays in the old Country there is great prosperity
There is peace in Northern Ireland such good news is good to hear
And the future looks bright for Ireland that is how it would appear
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When the silent majority speaks out they do sound to say the least shrill
The Bill Henson affair one example the artist with a camera Bill
His photographs of a pubescent female seen by some as pornographic evil in beauty some do see
This seems just like another Witch-hunt at least that's how it seems to me.
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I may not grow old where I live at present and who knows where I'll live out my life span
I was born and raised far north in Duhallow and I will die as a Millstreet man
And when the reaper takes the life's breath from me who knows where my bones are destined to lay
Perhaps in some southern graveyard far from where I first saw lamp of day.
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You sing your own praises as you drink your fill
Suppose you may as well do since none other will
Sing of your praises their own praises they sing
Self praise that was frowned on is now the in thing.
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The bluebells bloom on the ditch of the bohreen
And Claraghatlea groves looking leafy and green
And the stream down the high fields of Claramore flow
To join the river from Kippagh by briery hedgerow
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Everyone for themselves and God for us all
A saying from my younger years that I recall
In the twenty first century with some 'tis that way
Old habits die hard as some are known to say
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You don't have to tell me I already know
That money on bushes or on trees does not grow
Or dogs can't play guitars or worms can't sing
Or an eagle can't soar after breaking a wing.
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Young D B is a person well worthy of note
A talented artist and a marvellous poet
The most sought after young unmarried man by the young unmarried women of the town
He is one who is on the way to renown.
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'Tis easy quite easy for to criticize
But for highlighting flaws in others you will not win a prize
We dislike in others things in ourselves we see
With whoever first said that how could one disagree,
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