Francis Duggan Poems

The song of the chaffinch i fancy i hear
He sings in an old wood to my thoughts so near
The sunshine is warming his lovely pink breast
Nearby his mate quietly sits on her eggs in her nest
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He never more will walk in the Town of Millstreet in St Mary's cemetery at peace he lay
Perhaps in his mid forties to his early fifties he did die young and it would be fair to say
Of him that he was really a nice person he made so many friends along life's way
And one day his lot it will be our lot as for each of us there is a final day.
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If I should die tomorrow do not waste a tear on me
Instead say of life's worries he finally is free
He is with Mother Nature now and at peace where he lay
The wild birds chirp and whistle and life goes on today.
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In decades gone by nostalgia i did know
But it was a thing in time i did outgrow
Though memories of the old home fields with me remain
And in fancy i do visit them again.
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In a World of more than six billion people wildlife is disappearing
And many living things of land and sea to extinction are nearing
Habitat destruction, pollution and poaching it's toll on wildlife taking
For to save endangered species inroads we are not making,
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So beautiful and clever and gentle and wise
The woman with golden locks and chestnut brown eyes
And yet unaffected by guile or conceit
The nicest of those in their twenties who live in our street.
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The by road off of the highway it winds on up and down
Along the mountain valley that leads to Somewhere Town
A narrow and twisty roadway that test your driving skill
Up through the old brown valley and by the stony hill.
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I do not dislike them and i can honestly say
That apart from the views they hold they are okay
But tis our different opinions make us interesting some are known to say
And we all look at life in a different way,
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The high fields by the mountain are looking rather bare
And in the farm shed the cattle for fodder bellow in the frosty morning air
And the old stream from the mountain bank high to the river flow
And across the quiet old countryside the cold north east wind blow.
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Her shoulder length hair it is wavy and brown
The one known as the Rose of old Mortlake Town
And with a lovely smile and warmth in her hello
And dark blue eyes blue as the late Autumn sloe,
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