Francis Duggan Poems

No different to most other migrants i have had my good and bad years
For the Town in view of Clara i have shed my last nostalgic tears
But like every other migrant memories with me does remain
Of a past that has gone forever and will never be again
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No different to most other migrants i have had my good and bad years
For the Town in view of Clara i have shed my last nostalgic tears
But like every other migrant memories with me does remain
Of a past that has gone forever and will never be again
...

He lived as a great man many would agree
Though some in him flaws they did claim to see
Millions on t v watched his funeral today
And at peace forever the former President lay
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Gray backs, heads, tails and yellow unders in north east to south east Australia where trees do abound
They spend some of their time searching for insects on the graound
They have a quiet tweeping monotonous song
To the Australian flycatcher family they do belong
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It all ends up in nothing even for those of wealth and fame
For the one who wields the scythe of death treats all lives as the same
Though you are a billionaire like everyone for you a final day
You cannot buy time from the one on how long you live has the say
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We never stop learning until our last living day
This is how life is and will always be this way
And the more we do learn the more we realize
That of life we know little this not a surprise
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You see them near country lakes and onwetlands and near lakes in parks of the town
When they fly it is with effort with long legs dangling down
They are known as purple swamphen quite common in their range
Though that they are not favourite birds of many to say the least seems a bit strange
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Though with what i have to say on it most would disagree
Community organizations and groups not all they are made out to be
In most organizations and groups power comes into play
To be all lovey dovey is not the human way
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He wrote of life's reality in the England of his time
Of the plight of the poor in his marvellous rhyme
But in the neglect of the poems of George Crabbe it might seem fair to say
Is that he wrote of the poor in this some part neglect of him and of his poems would play
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You may feel life on you is tough
And that you are one of the not good enough
But you are not alone on feeling this way
Since many live with self doubt everyday
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