Francis Duggan Poems

I have not been to my first home-place for twenty nine years
And for the what used to be i have shed my last tears
But on my flights of fancy the Claramore rill
Babbles towards Claraghatlea down the fields by the hill
...

In her and John's home in Port Fairy Janice and i often enjoyed afternoon tea
Margaret Rahilly who died looking out on the sea
When the silver gulls were mewing and the nesting songbirds did sing
On a breezy evening in late October in the prime of the Spring
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He's only fifty years plus he looks much older
He looks near seventy 'Joe from Pakenham
And I've been told that he was decorated
For his bravery in the sixties in Vietnam.
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The World's many billion people controlled by the greedy few
But to every billionaire there is there are a million who
Go to sleep weak and hungry their wasted bodies thin
For days they have not eaten their bones showing through
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Will I return to Ballarat? don't know myself I may
Though I would like to return there if only for a day
To visit again my favourite haunts and meet friends I've got there
No better place than Ballarat though I've been to many where.
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I've heard that voice a couple of times before
Like creaking sound of creaky opening door
The unmistakeable voice of the gang gang cockatoo
A rare species of bird though I have seen a few.
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A wandering man he worked and tramped his way
Through Canada and through the U.S.A.
And he oft times slept under the open sky
But there was more to him than met the eye.
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True nomads in no one place they reside
But roam Ituri forest far and wide
And dance to their molimo melodies
Those little people from the land of trees.
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I know a man a middle aged man and he is unemployed
And he tell me that he has lost his dignity and pride
And it's his first time out of work and that his favourite hate
Is going up to the dole house to draw welfare from the State.
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Sing a song of Stephen Foster's a song from long ago
Sing 'Jeanie with the light brown hair' or even 'Old black Joe'
Or sing my 'Old Kentucky home' for that would please me so
Or 'old folks at home' or 'Oh Susanna' to the strains of the banjo.
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